


Goodnight Sweetheart

by ViperVocals



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bar Fight, Case Fic, Dream Sex, F/M, Oral Sex, Research, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-03-05 10:45:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 30,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13386189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViperVocals/pseuds/ViperVocals
Summary: Men are dying in a small town in Texas, and the Winchesters decide to find out why before anyone else turns up dead.  That, however, might be easier said than done when the brothers get caught up in the case - in a personal way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapters will be posted weekly. Thoughts and comments are welcome.
> 
> A big thank you goes to the Best Editor in the World - EllenOfOz. I couldn't have done this without your selfless help and encouragement. Thank you!

"Order up, Sammy," Dean said as he entered the room carrying plates piled high with a monster burger and fries. Sam was distracted by what he was looking at on his computer screen and only acknowledged Dean by glancing distractedly at the plate he sat at his elbow.

"Thanks," Sam said.

"What? Something wrong with the burger?" Dean asked as he sat down, mouth drooling in anticipation of the feast before him.

"Uh, no. It's just that five guys have died in their sleep in Willmount, Texas," Sam replied.

"And?"

"In the past three weeks."

"So?" Dean prodded.

"So, that’s a lot. Especially considering they were all young and in supposed good health," Sam explained.

"And that takes precedence over the beauty I just set in front of you?" Dean said around a mouth full of food, sounding slightly affronted.

"What?" Sam asked confused. When he finally really looked at what Dean had brought him to eat he asked surprised, "Did you make this?"

"Yes. Now eat it before it gets cold," Dean answered, taking another bite out of his burger. "So, what are you thinking?"

"Dude, don’t talk with food in your mouth," Sam admonished before taking a bite of his own. "Mmm… This is good. Like, really good. Why don’t you cook like this more often?"

"Eh," Dean responded with a shrug. "I cook when the mood strikes me. And when I have time. Anyway, who do you think did the killings? Freddy Krueger? Anybody live on Elm Street?"

Sam rolled his eyes before answering, "Monster, maybe. Freddy Krueger, no." 

"So what are they saying killed them all?" Dean asked. 

"Heart attack, but one of the articles I found doesn’t seem to agree. Listen to this: ‘combined with the four other deaths in recent days and the connection between the victims (slim as it might be) leads this journalist to wonder if everything is on the up and up at Will-U'." Sam read.

"Will-U? What's that?" Dean asked around another mouthful of burger.

"Willmount University - local college. I'd have to do a little more digging but it looks like all the victims either worked at or attended the school," Sam replied.

"Well, we've gone further for less, and I'm tired of looking at these walls, so let's go check it out." Looking down at his empty plate, Dean said, "And, I cooked so you get to clean. I'm going to get packed. It's back to school time!"

Sam just shook his head as the vacuum cleaner known as his brother walked out of the room, leaving his plate on the table for Sam to clean up.


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Dean and Sam found themselves in the basement of the Willmount City Police department, dressed in their Fed suits. Fake badges in hand, they approached a young woman in a lab coat that was making notes in a file spread out on the table in front of her.

"Excuse me," Sam said, "We're looking for the Medical Examiner."

The woman that looked up at Sam was extraordinarily pretty. She had a heart-shaped face, with rounded cheeks and a narrow jaw. Her mouth tilted up slightly at the corners, as if she was always on the verge of a smile. She had her bottom lip absentmindedly caught between her teeth while she concentrated on her work and Sam could easily imagine himself biting that lip while concentrating on something a lot more interesting. Black rimmed glasses were held up by a small, upturned nose, that, combined with the rest of her features, gave her an impish, pixie-like look. When she pushed them up into curly blonde hair that only brushed the collar of her lab coat, Sam was struck by the greenest eyes he had ever seen and lashes so long he wondered if they were real.

"I'm the ME, Dr Wade, but my friends call me Dolly," she said with a polite smile. Her voice was low and throaty, with a southern accent that suddenly had Sam thinking of sweet tea and covered porches.

"Well, hello Dolly," Dean said with a cheeky grin. For once, Sam was glad for Dean's cheesy one-liners, as he had found himself, uncharacteristically, struck dumb.

"Cute. Wouldn’t have picked you as a musical theater type. What can I do for you, gentlemen?"

Sam tried unsuccessfully to not laugh at the perplexed look on Dean's face as he showed Dolly his badge. "I'm Agent Speight and this is Agent Benedict and we'd like to take a look at some of your recent case files."

When Dolly hopped from her stool, Sam was surprised to see how small she was. He knew he was a tall man, but the top of her head would hardly fit under his arm. She gestured for both of them to follow, saying "Alright, which ones?" Sam watched, almost mesmerized, as she turned and walked into the adjoining room, the sway of her hips somehow sensual and business-like at the same time. Suddenly, an image of short blonde hair, black-rimmed glasses and a naughty librarian outfit filled his mind.

Sam realized she was waiting for him and Dean next to a filing cabinet in her office, looking to him for an answer. Berating himself for acting like a randy teenager, he pulled his notebook from the inside pocket of his jacket and flipped to the page where he had hastily written the names of the victims related to this case. "Uh...Brayden Walter, Riley Turner, Asher Ellison, Vincent McCabe and Daniel Welsh."

Dolly talked to herself as she worked her way through the files, reading the cause of death of each case as she pulled them out, one by one, stacking them on top of the filing cabinet as she went. "OK… Ellison… heart attack. McCabe… heart attack. Turner… heart attack. All of these are heart attacks. Why does the FBI need to see these?" she asked as she handed the files to Sam, who immediately began to flip through them, trying to give himself something else to look at besides the green-eyed goddess before him.

"We believe they might be related to another of our ongoing cases," Dean answered, in his best authority-figure voice.

Her eyes grew wide with shock and her hand flew to her throat as she asked, "Like a serial killer?"

"No, not the serial killer kind of related. Just… related," Dean replied. Shooting Sam a ‘help me' look he asked, "Why does everyone assume it’s a serial killer?"

With obvious relief, Dolly answered his rhetorical question, "Well, you are the Feds, isn't that what you do? Besides pissing off the locals, that is."

"Ha. Well, someone's been watching a few too many cop shows. We aren't all like that," Dean replied.

Sam looked up just as Dolly straightened her spine and set her jaw before she laid into Dean. "Look, just because I sound like a country bumpkin doesn’t mean that I haven't had my own run-ins with the Feds. You don’t get as far as I have, as fast as I have in this field without bumping up against a guy in a suit that thinks that just because I have a pretty face and a southern accent that there isn't anything else going on up here," she said as she pointed to her head.

When Dolly paused to draw in a breath, Sam jumped in to rescue Dean before he could get his whole foot in his mouth. "I'm sorry. What my partner was trying to say was that we are well aware of the stigma that the FBI has, and though we can't change everyone's opinion we usually try to do our best to not fall into that same stereotype," Sam finished, shooting Dean a look.

Dolly seemed mollified by Sam's response, though she still eyed Dean with some antagonism. While he had her attention, Sam continued, "So, about these cases. We've run across similar ones before and just wanted to take a look at the files and see if there was anything here that might be connected to them."

Dolly took a deep breath and focused her full attention on Sam, effectively cutting Dean out of the conversation. She pulled her glasses down onto her nose and put a hand out for the files Sam had in his hand before continuing, "Well, from what I found during the autopsies, everything seemed pretty straight forward. The victims died of a myocardial infarction sometime during the night."

"A what?" Dean asked, dumbfounded.

"A heart attack," Sam supplied.

"So basically, they just went to sleep one night and never woke up?" Dean asked.

Dolly glanced at Dean over the top of her glasses and nodded curtly, begrudgingly acknowledging his question.

"Was foul play ever considered?" Sam asked.

Dolly turned her attention back to Sam to answer him. "Three of them died alone. They were investigated as homicides until I determined their cause of death as heart attack. Two of them were married and found by their respective partners in the morning. There were no signs of struggle, their tox screen came back clean, and there was no history of heart issues. The only thing odd about these cases were that they were all so young to have their heart give out. I'm not saying it doesn’t happen, just that it’s a damn shame when it does."

"Can we have a copy of these?" Sam asked, indicating the files in her hand.

"It will take a while. I can make you copies of my reports and you can come back tomorrow to pick up the rest of the files, if you want."

"That'd be great. Thanks," Sam responded with a smile.

She smiled back and Sam felt a rush of elation spread through him. "Sure thing. Have a seat and I'll be right back," Dolly said as she walked out of the room.

Sam and Dean sat down in the two, uncomfortable but standard office chairs situated across from the desk that dominated the small room. It was cluttered but organized, with papers and folders stacked neatly in piles, some with sticky notes poking out between the pages, others open, as if she had just stepped away from them for a moment. Sam made sure to get the chair that was angled so that he could watch Dolly as she made the copies, purely for professional reasons, of course. Her movements were sure, as if she had done this a thousand times before. He watched as she tucked an errant curl behind her ear, biting her lip in concentration as she read the reports she was making copies of. What would it be like for her to look at him with the same kind of intensity? For her to look at him with desire in her eyes and her lip between her teeth while she smiled flirtatiously?

"She's an excitable one, isn't she?" Dean asked.

Sam was jarred out of his thoughts when Dean spoke and had no idea what he was talking about. "What do you mean?" he responded, not taking his eyes off Dolly.

"Well, she went from flirting with you, to scared about a serial killer, to somehow being pissed at me because some guy in a suit thought she was an air head sometime in her life. She was all over the place," Dean explained.

"Well, your comment did sound a bit condescending," Sam said, only half listening. When it hit him what Dean had said, he was surprised. "Wait, what do you mean, flirting with me?" he asked, turning to look at Dean, sure he was messing with him.

"Don’t tell me you're so out of practice that you can’t tell when a girl is flirting?" Dean asked, his expression tinged with pity.

"I know when a woman is flirting, Dean, I just don’t think she was."

"Ah come on. Yes she was, and you know it. Hell, you were flirting back."

"What? No I wasn't," Sam denied.

"Whatever you say, Lover Boy. By the way, what did she mean about me being a musical theater type?" Dean asked.

"Uh, probably that you just don't look the type to, you know, go for singing and dancing. You look more like the uh... rock and roll, leather jacket type, is all," Sam explained with a barely concealed smirk.

"Damn right. And there's nothing wrong with that either," Dean said with conviction. After a few moments lost in thought, Dean asked, "I wasn't condescending, was I?"

Sam shrugged. "Kind of. I mean, she seems pretty young to be an Medical Examiner, so she's got to be smart and ambitious. And, in order for her to be able to take the ME position, she had to have done her residency in a bigger city where she would have gained the experience needed to impress the people hiring her. A big city would mean she's has had her fair share of run-ins with the FBI, and you know as well as I do that they don't usually play nice with the locals."

"That's one way to put it," Dolly said as she walked back into her office, surprising the boys. "I didn’t mean to eavesdrop on you. It's just that it’s not a common thing for Feds to be as accommodating as you are. They're mostly the come-in-and-take-over type. Thank goodness I haven't had to deal with any of them since I moved here. Well, until now, anyway."

"Well, thank you, Dr Wade, for the reports." Sam replied, standing and taking the offered papers from her as he spoke.

"You can call me Dolly," she said, smiling up at him. Again, Sam was struck, not only at how small she was, but by the personality that just seemed to shine out of her. He knew that her stature made him think that she was vulnerable, but there was a fire in her as well. It made him want to pull her close to protect her, but also to turn her loose to see what she was capable of.

"Alright, Dolly. Thank you. Again," Sam responded, returning her smile.

"Now, don’t you forget to come see me tomorrow for the rest," Dolly said.

"Wouldn't dream of it. See you tomorrow," Sam replied as he followed Dean out of her office and across the room to the stairs leading towards the exit.

They hadn't made it very far into the police station proper before Dean grabbed the files out of Sam's hand and said "Let me see those." Flipping open the first file, Dean gave a triumphant "Ah ha! I thought so."

Sam, puzzled, asked, "What?"

"She left her business card clipped to the inside of one of the files."

"So? It’s a professional courtesy. I left my card on her desk," Sam said, not looking at Dean as they walked.

Unclipping it from the file and turning it over Dean asked "Well, did you leave your personal number written on the back like she did?"

"What? Let me see that," Sam said as he snatched the card from Dean. Sure enough, there was a phone number written in a neat but fluid script on the back.

"I thought you were acting funny back there. Now I know it’s because you like her. And she likes you back," Dean teased.

Tucking the card into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, Sam said exasperatedly, "Oh my God, Dean. What are you? Five?" He was trying to act nonchalant but the thought of Dolly purposefully flirting with him and then giving him her number, made his heart skip a beat.

As soon as Dean opened the door that led out onto the street and headed toward the Impala, he started singing, “Sammy's got a girlfriend. Sammy's got a girlfriend."

Sam knew he couldn't hide the flush of his face as he folded his large frame into the car, so he just turned to look out the side window and consoled himself with thoughts of all the ways he could get back at his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

After leaving the police station, Sam and Dean had driven around until they found a motel called The Mount Inn. Dean had thought it was “punny”, so he had stopped to see if they had any vacancies. When Dean found out that they would pretty much have the place to themselves, he paid for a room with one of "his" credit cards. Thankfully this one didn’t have a weird last name and the guy behind the counter didn’t ask for ID.

Dean drove around to their room, and he and Sam unloaded their bags from the car. Unlocking the door and turning on the lights in a new motel was always a crap shoot. Sometimes they were pleasantly surprised and sometimes… they wondered why they didn’t ask to see the room first. This room was a little of both. While it wasn't a garish color or have questionable stains on the carpet, it was decorated completely with horses. Horses everywhere. The paintings on the walls, the quilts on the beds, even the lampshades had horses on them.

"Not quite what I was expecting," Dean said, chagrined.

Pushing his way into the room behind Dean, Sam took a look around and said "Huh. Do you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Mount Inn? Horses are sometimes referred to as mounts. Get it?"

"Oh. Yeah. OK," Dean said, sounding a little disappointed that the motel was full of horses instead of mountain views. "So what do you say we get out of these monkey suits and grab some food?"

"Sounds good."

***

The Saddle Up Saloon ended up looking exactly like Dean had expected it to. Swinging front doors, wood floor covered in peanut shells, and a slightly smoky haze that lingered from the sporadically placed candles that flickered around the room, creating dancing shadows on the walls. The music was loud, but decent and the waitresses seemed busy but friendly. Dean took in a deep breath and let it out with a sigh. "Now this is my kind of place."

"Why did I let you drag me here?" Sam asked, almost whining.

"Because," Dean replied as he led the way to a table, "they're supposed to have great steaks and I didn’t want you stuck in the room reading boring ME reports."

"Well, actually," Sam said, pulling some folded sheets of paper out of his jacket pocket.

"Man. Don’t tell me that’s what I think it is," Dean said, shaking his head.

"We need to read these sometime and I hadn't counted on you dragging me out to a bar tonight, so I grabbed them on the way out the door."

"Well, you do your homework, college boy, while I go get us some drinks."

"You know that’s what the waitresses are for, right?"

"Yeah, well, the bartender looks like someone I need to introduce myself to, so… see you in a few," Dean replied with a smirk.

Dean admired the bartender as he approached. She had an oval face, with prominent cheekbones and a rounded chin. Her almond-shaped eyes, set wide beneath carefully arched brows, were so strikingly blue, they seemed to glow slightly. Her thin, straight nose sat above a generous mouth with full, red lips that just begged to be kissed. Jet black hair with side-swept bangs that framed her face, fell to her waist. Dean thought she was easily the most beautiful woman in the room. When she approached him he turned on that famous Winchester charm and said with a smile, "Well, hello there, darlin'," in his best Texas drawl.

"Howdy, stranger. What can I get for ya?" When those gorgeous eyes of her finally met his, Dean could have sworn he felt a shock to his system, rendering him momentarily stunned and searching for an answer to her question. 

Finally finding his tongue, he said, "Two shots of whiskey."

Smiling sympathetically, she asked "Rough day?"

"Um, actually no, I'm here with my partner," Dean replied, pointing to Sam behind him.

"Oh, well that’s a shame," she said, sitting two shot glasses on the bar and filling them.

"Why is that?"

"We don’t usually get new faces in town. Especially ones as handsome as you," she said, looking up at him through her lashes and smiling.

Dean tipped an imaginary hat and turned up the charm, dropping back into a drawl when he replied, "That's mighty kind of you, ma'am. I'm Dean, by the way."

The bartender laughed and crossed her arms to lean on the bar, giving Dean a better view of the cleavage that threatened to spill out of the low-cut, black tee she wore. Lowering her voice she asked, "Well, Dean, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"I can think of a few things," Dean said with a wink, "but for now, I'll take a couple of beers."

The bartender turned and bent to grab two bottles from under the counter behind her. The movement showed off a glimpse of porcelain skin stretched taut over a hip bone that disappeared beneath the low-slung jeans that hugged her assets just right. Sitting the beers in front of Dean, the bartender asked, "Are you going to be able to handle all of this?"

"I can handle anything you throw at me," Dean said as he downed his shot. Giving her a nod of thanks, he gathered up the two beers and Sam's shot of whiskey in his hands and walked back to his table.

When Dean got there, he found Sam exactly as he expected he would, with his head buried in those ME reports. Jostling the table a bit to get Sam's attention, and laughing at the bitchface that he pulled when he did so, Dean sat the shot of whiskey and a beer down in front of Sam, and took a long drink of his own, before taking his seat.

"My God, that woman has a voice that sounds like sex. And a body to go with it. Mmm…" Dean said.

Sam looked up, exasperated. "Is that all you think about?"

"It is when she's talking," Dean replied as he looked back toward the bar and caught the woman in question glancing in his direction. He smiled in response and raised his beer at her.

Sam shook his head at his brother and asked, "What's the whiskey for?"

Dean turned back to answer Sam, "What? We're in a saloon surrounded by cowboys, just thought it was appropriate."

"Cowboys in saloons didn’t drink whiskey, they drank gasoline, if I remember correctly."

"You wouldn’t remember because you wouldn’t drink it, Mr. Sassafras," Dean retorted.

"It was sarsaparilla and was obviously much better tasting than that swill you ended up choking on.” At Dean’s bitch-face, Sam continued, “Whatever. Anyway, Dr Wade was right - "

"You mean Dolly," Dean interrupted.

Sam rolled his eyes and continued, "Yeah. OK. Dolly. She was right. According to her reports, these men were healthy. The only thing I can see was an incredibly low level of serotonin in their systems."

"What does that mean?"

"Serotonin is one of the chemicals in the body that affects sleep," Sam explained.

"So if they were running low on sleepy juice, how did they die in their sleep?"

"Good question," Sam said. 

"So what could cause low levels of sere…whatever?"

"Diet, erratic sleep cycle, stress…"

"No, I meant on our end."

"I don't know," Sam answered. "Nothing that I know of in the lore causes it, but there are things that can mess with you in your sleep." Seeing Dean open his mouth, Sam cut him off before he make another "Nightmare on Elm Street" reference. "And no, I'm not talking about Freddy Krueger." Dean's only response was an exaggerated pout, so Sam continued, "There's strigori, dream walkers, soul eaters, jinn, succubus and nightmares, just to name a few off the top of my head."

"Yeah, but most of those things leave you in a coma, not give you a heart attack," Dean countered.

"Yeah I know" Sam said. Seeing Dean's attention had once again strayed to the woman behind the bar, Sam nudged him, "Close your mouth Dean, you're drooling."

"What? No I'm not." Dean said, wiping his chin to make sure.

"You realize women get creeped out when guys stare at them like that, right?" Sam scolded.

"I'm not staring. Just enjoying the view."

"Right."

"Like you didn’t notice," Dean retorted, focusing his gaze back on Sam.

"Well, yeah," Sam answered, "She's gorgeous. You can't miss that, but try to tone it down a bit. "

***

Sam and Dean had been quiet, lost in their own thoughts for the last few minutes when Dean wiped his mouth with his napkin and threw it down on his only partially empty plate. As Dean stood he asked Sam, "You ready? I'm going to pay the bill."

"You OK? You didn’t eat half of your food."

"I'm good, just beat. I'll be right back."

"Ok," Sam said hesitantly. Though it was just like Dean to hit on a pretty woman when he saw one, it wasn't like Dean to be so distracted by one that he didn't eat. So it was with a feeling of unease that he watched his brother walk up to the bar and signal for the bartender.

***

Dean hadn't been able to get the bartender off his mind the whole night, and watching her talk, laugh, and flirt with people as she worked hadn't helped at all. There was just something about her that drew him to her - a magnetism she seemed to radiate that he found himself unable, and unwilling, to fight against. The compulsion he felt propelled him across the room to talk to her again. When she finally made her way down the bar to where he stood, he gave her his best “how you doin'?” smile and asked, "You ready to throw something else at me tonight? I'm ready."

"Well, I can ring you up, if that's what you mean," she said as she took his receipt, trailing her fingers across the back of his hand in the process.

"Um…ok. " Dean said as he pulled out his wallet and handed her enough cash to cover the bill. That was not the response he was expecting and her mixed signals were confusing the heck out of him, so he decided to just go for it. "Well, can I buy you a drink sometime?"

With a wry smile, she answered, "Honey, I work in a bar."

Dean chuckled self-consciously, wondering why his usual charm didn’t seem to be working on her. But, not being the kind of guy to just give up when the going gets tough, he tried again. "True. So, how about a number I can reach you at?"

The woman leaned on the bar towards Dean and said, "I tell you what, why don’t we sleep on it, and take it from there?"

Dean knew when he was getting the brush off and decided to leave with as much of his dignity left as he could. "Alright. But I'm going to hold you to it," he said as he walked away smiling.

Dean realized Sam had seen what had gone down at the bar as soon as he turned around and saw him waiting for him at the door. Knowing that he would probably take the opportunity to rib him about it, all Dean said as he brushed past him was, "Let's go."

***

Sam had been unsure if Dean had been successful or not, so those two brisk words told him all he needed to know. And it happened so rarely, that Sam couldn’t possibly let it go by without saying *something* as they walked to the car. "What? Don’t tell me the great Dean Winchester struck out?"

"No. More like... a rain check," Dean replied, with more confidence than he was actually feeling.

"Ha!" 

"Shut up, bitch."

"Jerk."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean found himself lost in her eyes as she stepped right up to him, without hesitation of any kind. Her fingers curled in the lapels of his battered jacket and she yanked him the scant inches separating them. Or had he leapt toward her in that last split second? He honestly didn’t know - only that with the first touch of her aggressive female energy engulfing him, he felt a hot rush through his entire body.

His mouth came down on hers and instantly the world shifted, almost throwing him off balance. For a second he put the peculiar sensations rushing through him down to loss of breath, but then he couldn’t think anymore. Just feel. A shock of electricity seemed to race down his spine, from the base of his skull all the way to his toes. It branched out to his fingers, mouth, anywhere he came into contact with her, like lightning trying to find its way home. He could feel his heartbeat speed up, pumping blood through his body that was hot, warming him from the inside out. Her lips were firm and cool and the contrasting sensations were exhilarating and made him want for more. Like a man dying of thirst in the desert tasting cool water for the first time, he opened his mouth to drink her in and allowed her to sweep him away with her.

The world she opened for him was pure ecstasy. Pleasure burst through him like a raging firestorm at the first touch of her tongue against his. She pulled at him, urging him closer, demanding more. He took a half step forward and molded his body to hers. His body seemed to melt at the contact, as if he was trying to fuse himself with her. Dean knew he was in dangerous territory, but he couldn’t stop himself. The terrible need to kiss her was far more than simply tasting her. An urge had been growing in him from the moment he'd first laid eyes on her. He needed her. Needed to surrender to her. To drop everything, strip himself bare of all his shields to let her inside, no matter how bad the idea was. He wanted to feel her heartbeat, every breath she took, as if they were one person instead of two.

She took control of the kiss, feasting on his lips, moaning as she ran her hands through his short hair, and grinding against his large frame. Dean's body seemed to belong to her instead of him, and responded immediately. He dragged her closer to him, his chest crushing the soft cushion of her breasts and he growled in frustration at the layers of clothing that separated them. He slid his hands down her sides, stopping only when he found the waistband of her jeans. He quickly slid her shirt up just enough so that he could grip her hips, pulling her that much closer and giving him only a fraction of the skin to skin contact that he needed. He knew he was too forceful, but he couldn't stop. Everything disappeared around him, dropping away until there was only her, with her soft, cool skin, silky hair, and an elusive scent that drove him wild. 

"Dean," he heard her whisper against his mouth. He leaned his forehead against hers and opened his eyes to see her startling blue ones searching his face. She seemed to be lost in thought while he was trying to remember to breathe. He bent his head again, his lips almost touching hers, as he lifted one hand to curl it around around the back of her neck, gently urging her forward. He caught her soft, breathy sigh and warm breath, as his mouth settled over hers. The world, once again, tilted and righted itself. 

"Dean." 

She tasted like apple pie and a shot of good whiskey, sweet with a punch to the gut that spread an inferno through his body and made him dizzy. She was a deadly mixture of fire and sex, a volatile cocktail rushing through his bloodstream and melting his mind.

"Dean!"


	5. Chapter 5

Sam checked himself out in the reflection of the hotel bathroom mirror. He had shaved this morning, telling himself it was to keep up the appearance of being an FBI agent, and not because he was going to see Dolly. His chin length hair seemed to mock him though as he pulled on his suit jacket, reminding him that no self-respecting, rule-following federal agent would have hair that long. He stepped back to take in as much of his outfit as he could in the small mirror, making sure his tie was straight and there weren't any wrinkles in his pants. Satisfied with what he saw, he checked his watch, surprised at what time it was. Chiding himself for acting like a teenager before a date, Sam opened the door of the bathroom and stopped in his tracks. Dean was still in bed, face down in the pillows, asleep. He looked at his watch again, then pulled his phone out of his pocket to make sure that he had the right time. 

"Dean," Sam called. Dean moved his head slightly, almost as if he was nodding, but that was it. Sam took a few steps closer and tried again, more forceful this time. "Dean." There was no movement. Dean was either ignoring him, or so caught up in his dreams that he wasn't waking up, neither of which seemed right. Dean was a light sleeper, always had been, so Sam was worried when he all but shouted Dean's name the third time. "Dean!"

Dean croaked out a sleepy, "What?" but stayed where he was, eyes still shut as he tried to ignore Sam. 

Relieved that he had finally gotten a response from his brother, Sam asked, "Are you going to sleep all day? Come on, get up."

Dean rolled over, opened his eyes groggily and blinked against the bright light shining through the cracks in the curtains of their motel room. He looked around, as if he was trying to get his bearings. When he saw Sam looming over him, already dressed for the day in his Fed suit, he asked, "What time is it?"

"It's after eight. Are you ok?" Sam asked worriedly. Dean's response was to groan and flop his arm over his face, covering his eyes. "Dude, come on. What’s wrong with you? We're supposed to go pick up the rest of those files from Dr. Wade. Get up. "

Dean dropped his arm back on the bed and smirked at Sam. "That’s right. Forgot you had a morning meet up planned with the good doctor. Tell you what, you go get what you need from her, and by the time you get back, I'll be ready to go."

"Fine," Sam said as he walked over to the table by the door and grabbed the keys to the Impala. He opened the door and looked back at Dean, a feeling of unease creeping up his chest. "Just... don’t go back to sleep."

***

Sam rounded the corner leading to the ME’s office, lost in thought about Dean’s weird behavior that morning, when he unexpectedly crashed into a small, delicately scented woman. Instinctually, he tightened his arms and swung her up and to the side, using his body to shield her and minimising their profile. He took a step back to regain his footing and looked around. Registering the fact that there was no danger in the area and that he was still holding her in his arms, he gently settled her back on her feet. He couldn’t quite bring himself to release her completely though, so he slid his hands to her shoulders and looked down into the slightly dazed, emerald eyes of the Medical Examiner. “Dolly!” Sam said, surprised. “Are you alright?”

“I’m ok,” Dolly said. She puffed out a breath to blow an errant curl out of her eyes and adjusted the wildly askew glasses on her faintly flushed face. “Wow. I was hoping to run into you today, but not quite like this.”

Sam chuckled self-consciously, noting how exquisitely soft and fragile she seemed as he reluctantly slid his hands away from her body. “Where were you going in such a hurry?”

“Coffee,” she said with a wry smile, “though with how my heart is racing at the moment, I’m not so sure I need another cup.”

“Well, I can always go for another, do you mind if I join you?” Sam replied with a hopeful grin.

“What? No sidekick today?” Dolly asked, looking around Sam into the empty hallway.

“No. He... overslept.”

“Out too late practising his song and dance routine, I suppose?” Doly asked, a little sassily.

“Something like that.” Sam answered with another chuckle.

“In that case, let me buy you a cup of coffee, Agent.”

“That sounds great,” he agreed, “and you can call me Sam.”

Grinning, Dolly said, “Well then, Sam, follow me for the best coffee our vending machines have to offer.”

Sam found himself laughing softly as he ambled after her to the nearby breakroom. He was struck by how completely at ease he found himself with her. She was smart, sassy and hard to rattle. That was a combination that he was familiar with in the women that he had met in his life, but meeting someone like that, that wasn’t a hunter, was interesting, and had him wanting to know more about her. “So, are you from around here?” Sam asked, cringing inwardly at the cheesiness of the question. 

Dolly must have thought it sounded like a horrible pick up line too, because she paused in making her selection to look over her shoulder at him and quirk an eyebrow before answering. “Nope,” she said with smile, “I’m a Georgia peach - grew up in the suburbs of Atlanta.”

Sam was glad that she turned her attention back to the machine in front of her, because he was pretty sure his face had gone slack-jawed. All he could think about was a line from a Nicholas Cage movie that went something like, “I can eat a peach for hours,” and his imagination went into overdrive.

Dolly jolted him out of his thoughts when she turned and handed him a steaming cup and asked, “What about you?”

“Kansas, but I do a lot of travelling,” Sam answered truthfully. 

“Bet that’s hard on your girl back home… you being gone so much.”

“Uh… no. No one back home.” Sam answered, a little sheepishly. 

“Ah,” she said with a knowing nod of her head, “so you've got a girl in every town. The ‘love em and leave em’ type, huh?”

“No. That’s more Dean’s department.”

“Really?” Dolly asked, mild shock on her face. When Sam nodded, she continued, “Hmm. Well, that’s… interesting.” She took a moment to look him up and down, a sparkle in her eye and her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she was momentarily lost in thought. Shaking her head as if to clear it, she said, “Anyway, I’m guessing you didn't come by today for just a social call.”

“Unfortunately, no.” Sam replied. “Were you able to get those files copied for me?”

“Yep,” she replied as she turned and walked out of the break room, talking as she went. “I wasn’t sure when you would be by today, so I made sure to get everything together before I left last night.”

“You didn't have to do that,” Sam assured her as he followed her across the room towards her office, “I would have been more than happy to wait while you got everything ready for me.”

She shot him a flirty smile as she held the door to the office open for him and said, “Don’t worry, Sam, I’m ready for you," just as he brushed past her to enter the room. 

Sam almost choked at her comment and coughed to cover up his reaction. He turned at the sound of the door shutting and the lock sliding into place. She seemed to have set her sights on him, and wasn’t messing around about it.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam took a moment to just look at Dolly. She leaned against the locked door, coffee in one hand, the other behind her back. The stance pushed her chest forward provocatively, straining the buttons on her white dress shirt. It stretched the material tightly across her breasts, allowing him to make out the white lacy bra she wore underneath. The shirt was tucked into a belted, conservative black pencil skirt that emphasized her hourglass shape and came to just above her knees. There was a side slit in the skirt that had gone unnoticed until she lifted one leg to rest her foot on the door jamb, giving Sam an enticing view of well-toned legs. His perusal ended at her feet, encased in black, round-toe heels, which made him smile. It seemed to Sam as if she was hoping the impractibly high shoes would put them on more of an equal footing, as it were.

“There you go again, making my heart race. And with just a look this time.” Dolly said, drawing Sam’s attention to her face. “It makes me wonder,” she continued after taking a dainty sip of her coffee, “what would happen if we touched.”

There is was. The look Sam had been thinking about ever since he laid eyes on her. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as desire-filled eyes roamed his body, in much the same way he had done to her.

“Well,” Dolly said, pushing away from the door and walking towards him, “if we touched on purpose.” She stopped just in front of Sam, and without a word, took his coffee and placed their cups on her desk. Turning back, she lowered her voice and continued, “And for an… extended amount of time.”

“It sounds dangerous,” Sam murmured. “Are you sure you want to try it?”

As an answer, Dolly pressed her palm to Sam’s chest and pushed. He felt the seat of the chair hit the back of his legs and let himself to fall back into it. “I think it’s worth the risk,” she said as she stepped between his legs. Sam smiled, not only at her response, but also at the realization that she was finally taller than him. She had to be feeling powerful and in control and he was pretty sure she liked it that way.

Dolly leaned forward and ran her hands through Sam’s hair. She curled her hands around the back of his head and pulled his face towards her, pressing her lips to his. They were soft but sure in their mission, like their owner. Sam couldn’t help but deepen the kiss. He parted his lips, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth, nipping at the delicate flesh that taunted him every time he was around her. She tasted sweet and refreshing with just enough tart to keep things interesting. He suddenly found himself thirsty for more.

Dolly moaned against his mouth and tilted her head back, breaking the kiss but granting Sam access to her neck, which he gladly accepted. He lifted his arms to her waist, pulling her body closer to him, and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He inhaled deeply and smiled against her skin. Peaches. She smelled like peaches. Sam knew he would never see or smell another peach again without thinking about her.

He slid his hands from her waist, around to her ass as he kissed, licked and nibbled on her neck. He made her moan again when he licked the hollow where her neck met her collarbone, which prompted him to spend a few moments there, enjoying the small sounds of pleasure she made. His hands trailed down to the back of her thighs, searching for the hem of her skirt. Finding it, he ran his hands up her legs again, stopping when he felt the lace of her panties. He found them intriguing. They seemed to be a mix between bikini and thong. They immediately became his favorite kind of underwear. Ever. He liked the way they teased him by allowing contact with only that inch or so of cheek that they left uncovered.

Sam slipped the fingers of one hand under the delicate material, filling his hand with Dolly’s ass cheek, while his other moved to the front of her panties. He had to know if she was as turned on as he was. He wasn’t disappointed. The moment his knuckles brushed against her cloth covered mound, she moaned and fisted her hands in his hair, roughly pulling his head backward so she could crush her lips to his.

Spurred on by her reaction, Sam slid Dolly’s panties to the side, and groaned with pleasure. Her smooth skin was dewy with arousal and he couldn't stop himself from fondling her slit, gently parting her lips to insert one of his fingers into her wet channel. Dolly moaned her enjoyment and attacked his mouth with renewed fervor, feasting on his mouth like a starving woman as she leaned into Sam’s touch. He quickly added a second finger and began to stroke them in and out, twisting and scissoring his fingers. Dolly shifted her attention from Sam’s lips to his neck, biting and sucking while making small mewling sounds in time with his fingers. When he slowly eased in a third, Dolly threw back her head and started to buck her hips, riding his hand and reveling in the fullness the added pressure gave her.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. As much as he was enjoying this, he needed more. He removed his fingers from her body and quickly hooked them into the waistband of her panties and dragged them down her legs. Dolly groaned her displeasure but released him to step back and out of her underwear. Sam shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it out of the way as she loosened his tie and pulled it off over his head. He expected her to toss it onto the floor with his jacket, but instead she put it on, letting it hang long and loose over her partially unbuttoned shirt.

Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she pushed Sam further back into the chair. To his surprise, Dolly sank to her knees between his open legs, trailing her hands down his chest as she did so, pausing when she found the bulge in the front of his slacks. She made quick work of his belt and zipper, and Sam breathed out a sigh of relief when his member was finally released. She hummed in appreciation, and dipped her head to lick the drop of precum that had gathered on the tip. At her touch, Sam gasped and slammed his eyes shut. He was holding himself so still, he could have been tied to the chair spread-eagle - head thrown back, hands gripping the arms of the chair in a stranglehold, and legs splayed wide.

Sam groaned loudly when he was suddenly engulfed in the warm, wet heat of her mouth. His hands reached out blindly to grab something but all he found was Dolly’s gloriously curly hair, which he immediately buried his hands in. As her mouth slid up his shaft, his hips rose to follow after her, silently begging for more. He opened his eyes and met the gaze of the green eyed temptress between his legs and watched as she dragged her tongue over the tip of his cock. 

Dolly wrapped her fingers around his base and Sam could feel himself pulse in her small hand. She ran her palm over the head, getting it slick with more precum, and stroked him slowly. Keeping her eyes locked with his, she closed her mouth around just the head of his cock, her tongue moving over it in lazy, sensual licks. The breath that forced its way from his lungs came out as a heavy moan, and Sam closed his eyes. He knew he wouldn’t be able to last much longer if she kept this up.

When he lifted his head again, what he saw almost had him exploding right then and there. The head of his dick was enveloped by Dolly’s gorgeous mouth, licking and sucking at random intervals while she stroked his shaft with one hand. She had rocked back on her heels at some point and her skirt was riding up her thighs. It gave Sam an excellent view of her other hand, busy rubbing her clit in quick clockwise circles. Sam enjoyed himself a few moments more, pushing himself to the limit, before sliding his hands to Dolly’s shoulders, urging her to her feet. She opened her eyes and stood, smiling mischievously as she hiked her skirt the rest of the way up her hips and straddled his lap. She wriggled a bit until his cock was nestled between her lips, teasing them both with her movements.

Sam ran his fingers through her hair and around the back of her head, bringing her face down to his, and kissed her. The kiss was urgent, bordering on desperate, their lips, teeth, and tongues wrestling for dominance. All playfulness was gone now. There was only need. Boiling up in both of them. Pushing them to find their release. He lifted his hips a bit, shifting Dolly upwards slightly, and slipped his hand between them. Sam gripped his rock-hard cock and stroked it back and forth against her inner folds, coating it in her juices and relishing the shudder that went through her. The second time he did it, he paused at her entrance and waited until her heavy-lidded gaze met his, silently giving her a chance to refuse before they crossed the point of no return. She smiled in acknowledgement and slowly began to impale herself on his impressive cock.

Sam let Dolly take the lead, allowing her to go as slowly as she needed to become accustomed to his size. When he was completely seated inside her, they both exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. She wrapped her arms around his neck, crushing her breasts into his chest and sliding a hand up the back of his head. The movement forced her hips forward, and they both gasped at the sensation.

A million thoughts rushed through Sam’s mind. This was so unlike him. Here he was, midmorning, fully dressed, with a ravishing beauty, who also happened to be the Medical Examiner for this case, riding his cock like it was all she was put on this earth to do. But those thoughts would have to wait for later, because now? Fuck. Right now this felt unbelievable.

Sam didn't know if it was the angle or Dolly’s position, but this felt better than anything he had experienced in years. Dolly felt so tight around his cock. He was all but howling in ecstasy, almost out of control and unsure whether he would be able to hold out until after Dolly came. Because Sam was a gentleman, he always made sure the woman came first, but this time? It was a struggle. Nothing had ever felt so incredible or intimate before.

Sam dragged a gulp of air into his lungs and looked up into Dolly’s flushed face as she rocked back and forth on his cock. Her hair was disheveled and small curls clung to the beads of sweat that had formed on her forehead. Her eyes were closed and her mouth hung slightly open with pleasure.

He was still afraid he was going to fall short of the mark. His orgasm was boiling just under the surface and without his usual control he had no way to stop it. It didn’t help that Dolly had picked up speed to match his piston-like rhythm, holding on for dear life as their lovemaking reached a fever pitch. She was almost at her climax, Sam could tell. He could feel her shaking from the inside out, could see the look of longing and desperation on her face as she raced furiously toward that elusive edge. He slid his hand between their trembling bodies, splayed his hand on her stomach, thumb over her clit, giving her the extra stimulation to push her over the precipice.

Sam felt Dolly’s inner muscles clamp down on him like a vise and her whole body went rigid as her orgasm came crashing down on her. He held himself still, watching the emotions play over her face as she was carried away by the earthquake of passion coursing through her. Bringing her forehead down to Sam’s, Dolly rolled her hips, slowly at first, then picking up speed until she was almost frantic. Sam thrusted upward fiercely, determined to ride out the aftershocks with her. He came, grunting and gripping her hips hard enough to leave bruises as his cock spasmed and pumped into her again and again.


	7. Chapter 7

As Sam approached the motel room, thoughts of Dolly lingered in his mind. He didn't realize he was smiling until he walked through the door and Dean said, “Looks like someone’s meeting this morning was productive.” 

Sam shook himself from his thoughts and dropped a stack of file folders on the table next to Dean. Purposefully taking his comment to be about the case, Sam answered, "Yeah. I got the rest of the files from Dolly and did some more digging. It looks like the article was right. All the victims but one were connected to the university in some way."

Dean was dressed in slacks, a white shirt, striped tie and seemed, in Sam's opinion, a hell of a lot better than he did this morning. He leaned back in his chair and asked Sam, "Any chance any of them knew each other?"

"Very little," Sam said. "They were in different departments, working on different degrees, in different years of school. There was a vet tech student, a TA, a research assistant, and a guy who worked in the student resources office. "

"There's got to be a more solid connection than just the school then," Dean replied, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I don't know. Four out of five victims is a hell of a connection. Plus, it gives us a starting place. I think we should go talk to the Student Resources Director first, and try to get a look at the victims' files from the school, and go from there."

"If you say so, boss," Dean said with a resigned sigh as he shut the laptop in front of him and stood.

Sam gave Dean a long look and asked, "Are you sure you're okay, man?"

"I'm fine, Sam. What's with the concern all of a sudden?" Dean replied, grabbing his phone and pulling on his jacket.

"Nothing. Never mind," Sam said, shaking his head and tossing the keys to Dean. Sam decided that it wasn't worth pushing. They had both seen some shit in their lives, and because of that, and what they did for a living, they rarely, if ever, got a good night's sleep. So, if Dean had a dream that he actually wanted to stay in, who was he to try to take that from him. So, with that thought, he followed Dean out the door.

***

Sam and Dean walked through the front doors of the Willmount University's Administration Building and followed the signs until they found the Student Resources wing. The door was slightly ajar, so they pushed it the rest of the way open to reveal a worn but neatly decorated space. Along the wall to the left was a line of chairs, bookended by small tables that held education-themed magazines and informational pamphlets. On the right, a plump, middle-aged woman with short, silver-grey hair sat behind a large L-shaped desk that separated any visitors from the office behind her; the nameplate on her desk read "Ms. Vanville".

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. How can I help you?" she asked. Her polite smile revealed slight crow's feet beside eyes that sparkled.

Sam led the way over to her desk and said, "We'd like to talk to the Director of Student Resources, please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

At her question, Sam and Dean pulled their badges from their jacket pockets and presented them for her inspection. "No, but we were hoping he’d have a few minutes for us," Sam replied.

Ms. Vanville only needed to see the blocky, blue letters that read FBI to have her rising from her chair with a, "Just a moment." She knocked softly on the director’s door before entering and shutting it behind her.

Dean took that opportunity to yawn largely, ending it with a sigh. Sam looked at him in mild surprise and said, "You can't possibly still be tired."

With a shrug Dean answered, "What can I say? A growing boy needs his sleep. And another cup of coffee."

Before Sam could respond, the door in front of them opened and the secretary stepped out. Motioning for them to enter she said, "Right this way, gentlemen." The two men nodded their thanks as they rounded her desk and entered the office.

The man sitting at the desk, with his back to the door, closed the lid of a laptop as they walked in. He turned and stood, offering his hand and a polite smile in greeting. “Good morning gentlemen. I’m Rory Perez, Director of Student Resources. What can I do for you?”

Sam pointed to Dean as they reached inside their jacket pockets and showed their badges. “Agents Benedict and Speight,” he responded, “We’re investigating some recent deaths that seem to be connected to Willmount University and wanted to ask you a few questions about one of your staff, Daniel Welsh.”

Mr. Perez gestured toward the chairs in front of his desk as an invitation to sit, and said, “I’d like to help however I can. What would you like to know?”

“How well did you know Mr. Welsh?” Sam asked.

“Daniel had worked here for several years. He was a great employee - always ready to work, did whatever needed to be done, great with students and parents, just an all around good guy.”

“What about his personal life? Any problems at home?”

“No, no problems at home that I know of. Well, not major ones anyway. We all have complaints about our partners from time to time,” Mr Perez said with a smile, “but when you’ve been married as long as I have, you learn that she’s usually right, and you just go with it. Other than the odd complaint every now and then, everything seemed fine.”

“You don’t sound so sure of that.” Sam pressed.

Mr. Perez looked from one man to the other, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before answering. “Well, a few days before he died, he started acting… odd.”

“Odd? How so?”

“It started with him being late to work. The first time it happened, it wasn’t a big deal. Everyone runs late now and again. But when it happened the second and third time, I got concerned. He brushed it off and said he must be coming down with something.” 

Dean piped up, “So him being late a few times was all it took for you to be concerned about him?”

“No. It wasn’t just that. He looked terrible. His eyes were all puffy and black underneath, like he hadn’t been sleeping. And his behavior was… off. He was clumsy - dropping things, tripping over stuff - and he’d forget things you had just told him. And he was irritable. All the time. The smallest things seemed to set him off. I thought he was coming in hungover everyday, but took him at his word and finally told him to go home until he started feeling better. I didn’t need him getting the whole office sick.” 

“Was he a heavy drinker?” Sam asked.

“He drank, but not to excess. He was usually a responsible person. Even when we would all go out for drinks after work, he was the one that made sure we all had a safe ride home, even calling a cab if he thought someone needed it.”

“So if he wasn’t coming in hung over, what was wrong with him?” Dean asked. “Did he go to the doctor?”

“The day I sent him home, he said he was going to, but unfortunately, he passed away that night. We were all stunned, to say the least. Why are you investigating his death? I thought Daniel died from a heart attack.”

Sam ignored the question and asked one of his own, “Were you aware that there have been three other heart attack related deaths associated with this university?”

Mr. Perez seemed genuinely taken aback. “No. I had no idea. Are you serious?”

“Quite.” Sam answered with a nod. “Would it be possible for us to take a look at the other victim’s records?”

“I’ll see what I have. Just a moment, I’ll have my secretary get them for you.” Mr Perez said as he reached for the phone on his desk. He pushed a few buttons and paused before he spoke into the receiver, “Marissa, can you come in here, please? Thank you.”

A few moments later, Ms. Vanville opened the door and asked expectantly, “Yes?”

“Marissa, these agents have a list of names and I’d like for you to pull their records,” Mr Perez said, gesturing towards the two men. Sam tore the page from his notebook that had the names of the victims on it and handed it to Ms. Vanville. Mr. Perez shifted his attention back to Sam and asked, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“If we could get a copy of the files to take with us, that would be helpful,” Sam said.

“I don’t think so. It’s one thing for me to allow you to see the records, but taking a copy of possibly confidential information from these offices, is out of the question.”

“Look,” Dean said irritably, “we can come back with a warrant, if you want. Though if the press was to get a hold of the fact that the FBI is investigating these deaths, I think you would have more to worry about than whether or not we know their GPAs.” 

Mr. Perez let out a resigned sigh as he answered, “All right. Fine. But I’m still not giving you anything confidential.”

“Whatever you can give us will be fine,” Sam answered with a tight smile.

“For now.” Dean added.

***

Outside the university building Sam asked, “Did you really feel the need to go all “good-cop, bad-cop” on that guy?”

“What?” Dean asked, perplexed. “He was trying to stonewall us. I got us what we needed, didn’t I?” When all Sam did was shake his head in exasperation, Dean continued. “What I want to know, is since when does a hangover, or a cold, or whatever was going on with this guy, cause a heart attack?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” Sam replied.

When they reached the car, Dean stopped and turned to look at Sam over the roof. “And hasn’t there been five guys that died?”

“Yeah.”

“Then why did you tell Perez that there were only four?”

“There are only four that connect to the university. The first guy was a local business owner.”

“A ‘business owner’?” Dean asked sarcastically, using finger quotes to emphasize his words. “What kind of business did he own?”

“Actually,” Sam began as he opened his notebook to scan his hastily written notes on the case, “he owned a bar. The Saddle Up Saloon, in fact.”

“The bar from last night?” Dean asked, in mild surprise.

“Yeah.”

Dean immediately opened the car door and slid behind the wheel, grinning. When Sam didn’t move fast enough for him, he yelled out, “Come on, Sammy!” as he cranked the car.

Sam slid into the passenger seat with a grimace. “Man, that poor woman is going to think you’re stalking her,” he complained.

“Nah,” Dean said as he backed out of their parking spot, “today I’m there on official business.”


	8. Chapter 8

It was late afternoon by the time Dean and Sam made it back to the Saddle Up Saloon, but there were already a few cars in the dusty parking lot. As they stepped over the threshold, the change in temperature was almost immediate, going from the warmth of a Texas day to the cool interior. It was dark as well, with the brightest light being from the sun that streamed in through the open door. They waited a moment to let their eyes adjust before heading towards the bar.

A woman was serving a couple of regulars a few seats down from where Dean and Sam stopped to wait. She was probably mid-fifties, Dean guessed, with smooth, tan skin that belied her age. She flipped her chestnut blonde hair over her shoulder and laughed at something one of the men said, before heading in their direction. 

“How you guys doing? Can I get you a beer? First one’s on the house for lawmen.” 

“We that easy to read?” Dean asked with a rueful smile.

“Nah. Just seen enough of ‘em to know. You were either cops or military, and judging by the hair on that tall drink of water that’s with you, you weren’t military. Just got that look about ya,” she answered with a knowing grin. “So, what’ll it be fellas?”

“Unfortunately, we’re here on business, so we’ll have to take a rain check on that beer,” Dean replied, pulling out his badge. “I’m Agent Benedict and this is my partner, Agent Speight. We were wondering if we’d be able to ask you a few questions, Ms…”

“Johnson. Emma Johnson.”

With a nod, Dean asked, “How well did you know Brayden Walker, Ms. Johnson?”

“Call me Emma. Ms. Johnson is my mother-in-law, and I don’t need anyone confusing the two,” she said with a shake of her head.

“Alright, Emma, about Brayden Walker…” Dean pressed.

“Lets see. He was always here in the mornings, no matter what had gone on the night before. He might not be here first thing, mind you, or stay very long, but he’d at least always stop in. He did the major part of the inventory and placing orders, which was nice, since we didn’t have to worry with it. Hell, he even tended bar most nights.”

“So who’s keeping the bar open now?”

“That would be Nick Long. He’s in the back if you want to talk to him.”

“Thank you, Emma. That would be great," Dean said with a polite smile.

Emma lifted the partition that kept customers out from behind the bar and away from the cash register, and walked towards the back of the room, gesturing for them to follow. She stopped in front of a door that said “Employees Only” and knocked, pushing on the slightly ajar door with her knuckles. “Hey Nick? There’s a couple of guys here to see you.” When the door swung the rest of the way open, she stopped short. “Oh, sorry Kara. Didn’t know you were here.”

“No worries. Just picking up my paycheck.” Kara said as she waved the envelope in her hand. She glanced over Emma’s shoulder and saw Dean and Sam standing in the doorway, and smiled. “Well, hello handsome. Just couldn’t stay away, could you?”

The moment their eyes met, Dean's heart stuttered painfully in his chest. Images from his dream the night before flashed through his mind, distracting him from the job at hand. He was startled out of his thoughts when the man Emma had spoken to asked, "Who are these guys, Emma?”

Dean dragged his attention away from Kara and tried to focus on the man in front of him. He also seemed to be in his fifties, heavyset, with short cropped hair and a salt and pepper beard that only accentuated his square face and jaw. He was casually dressed in a polo shirt and khaki shorts and sat behind a cluttered desk in the tiny office.

“Feds. Want to talk to you about Brayden,” Emma replied.

“About Brayden? Why?”

“We can’t really talk about an ongoing investigation, but we need to ask you a few questions about the former owner," Sam answered.

“Co-owner," Nick corrected.

“I’m sorry?”

“Brayden was the former co-owner. We went in together on this place.”

A bell dinged in the distance, and Emma said, “That would be my cue, boys. You let me know if you need anything else, Nick.”

Nick thanked Emma as she left and and turned his attention back to the brothers when Sam said, “So you must have known Mr. Walker pretty well then.”

“Well enough. We were friends all the way through college. I was always more book smart and he was the hands on guy, so when he wanted to open a bar, he brought me in. I did the books, paid the bills and kept out of the way, mostly. But not Brayden, this place was his life. He loved it.”

“What’s this all about? I thought he died from a heart attack,” Kara said, reminding two of the three men in the room that she was still there. Dean hadn’t forgotten, though. He was having a hard time concentrating with her in such close proximity as it was, but when she spoke, his attention zeroed in on her immediately.

“We’re just following up on a few things. Do you know if he knew any of these people?” Sam asked, taking out the photos of the other victims that he had snagged from their files.

Nick took the pictures and studied them. “No. Like I said, I didn’t spend a lot of time here at night. Kara would know better, she's good with faces,” he said as he handed the photos back to Sam. “Sorry. Is there anything else you need? I’m kind of busy right now.”

“No, not at the moment, Mr. Long,” Sam answered. “Thank you for your time.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” Kara said. “See you later, Nick.”

Nick lifted his hand in farewell as they turned to go.

When the door to the office was closed behind them, Dean snarked, “Well, isn't he just a ray of sunshine?”

“He’s not so bad once you get to know him.” Kara said.

“I bet,” he replied. He stopped at the end of the bar and asked, “What about you? How well did you know Mr. Walker?” He clenched his hands into fists in his jacket pockets and forced himself to remain calm and not reach out to touch her.

“Not all that much, really. I met him when he hired me and tended bar with him a few nights before he died," she answered.

“Did he have any issues with any of the other employees? Customers? Know anyone that would have wanted to harm him?” Sam asked.

“Not that I can think of. I mean, he flirted with everybody, but nothing got out of line. And the customers loved him. Everybody did."

“Do any of these guys look familiar to you? Ever see Brayden, or Nick for that matter, with any of these men?” Sam asked as he handed the victim photos to Kara.

“You know, I want to say yes, but I’m not sure. Nick gives me more credit than he should when it comes to faces. We get pretty crowded in here at night and I’m still learning the regulars. But you know what? That guy looks familiar," she said as she pointed to the photo of Daniel Welsh. “I think he came in, I don't know, about a week or so ago with a group of his co-workers.”

“Anyone else you recognize?” Dean asked.

“Not really. Not enough to say for sure. Sorry,” she answered. As she handed the photos to Dean, their eyes met and her fingers brushed his. At her touch, he was instantly filled with desire. His world narrowed to just the two of them. He forgot where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He was suddenly hungry for more of her touch. Yearned for it. Craved it. 

The moment was broken when Sam responded, “That’s okay. You've been very helpful.”

Kara dropped her hand and said with a smile, “Well, you know where to find me if you want me for anything else.” When she turned to go, the gentle swing of her long ponytail and the sensual sway of her hips as she walked away caught Dean’s attention. He was mesmerized by her movements and couldn’t bring himself to tear his eyes away.

The jingle of the bell above the door as Kara opened it to leave brought Emma from the back. “Ready for that beer, now? You look like you could use one,” she said with a chuckle.

“No thanks. Maybe another time,” Sam replied.

“Actually,” Dean said, “if the kitchen is open, I wouldn’t mind getting a couple of the specials. To go, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all,” she said as she disappeared through the swinging doors behind the bar.

“Where are we going?” Sam asked. 

“Back to the motel.”

“Why?”

“Look, I feel like crap. All I want to do at the moment is get some food in me and crash. If it makes you feel any better, you can stay up late and do all the research you want while I count sheep.” 

“Are you sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah. I’m fine. Just beat.”

Emma reappeared with two styrofoam take-out containers and interrupted their conversation before Sam could get anything else out of Dean. “Here you go, boys. Club sandwiches, freshly toasted and on the house,” she said as she placed the boxes on the bar next to the cash register. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Sam said.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s the least I can do since I couldn’t talk you into a beer,” she said as she put the containers into a plastic carry bag. 

“Well, thank you. We appreciate it.”

She dismissed his thanks with a wave of her hand. “You’re welcome. Anything I can do to help the boys in blue, even if you are Feds. You guys have a good night. And don’t work too hard, you hear?”

“Yes ma’am,” Sam replied with a smile.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean opened his eyes and stared blankly at the ceiling. He looked at the clock on the bedside table and realized it was still the middle of the night. What had pulled him from his sleep? He lay there listening for whatever sound had roused him, but heard nothing out of the ordinary. He could hear the low hum of the ice machine just outside their motel room, and could see the glow from the sign outside shining through the crack in the curtains, but nothing…

What was that?

A slight shuffle, as if fabric was sliding against something. Looking toward the bathroom door, he realized it was open the tiniest bit. Was Sam up and awake? A quick glance at the bed beside him squashed that thought. Sam was asleep, on his side with his back to Dean, snoring slightly.

There it was again. That shifting, sliding sound.

Sweeping his eyes around the room, thankful for the light that glowed through the window, Dean took an inventory of the room. Nightstand, table and chair, kitchenette… and then a shadow seemed to… move. Slowly, keeping his eyes on the corner where he saw the movement, he let his hand glide softly down the side of the bed, reaching for the gun that he always kept within arm’s reach. Before he could make contact with the cold metal that had saved his life more times than he could count, there was movement again, and a woman seemed to just melt out of the shadows.

The black-as-night dress she wore seemed to be made of the shadows she had materialized from. It was cinched at the waist and swirled around her bare feet as she stepped silently toward him. As she moved, the thigh-high slits in her skirt, one on either side, parted to reveal tantalizing glimpses of her legs.

She paused at the foot of his bed, head tilted to the side as if considering something. Blue eyes peered into his, as if she could see inside him. Dean felt transfixed. He knew there were questions he should be asking, “How did you get in here?” being the first and foremost, but the words wouldn’t come.

She smiled, and he was entranced by her mouth. Her lips were full and luscious. She slowly pushed her tongue out to lick the top then bottom lip, catching it with her teeth in a clearly provocative move. He caught himself almost groaning.

Without a sound, she leaned forward and placed one hand on the mattress, moving toward him. Her movements were smooth, sure and sexy as all get out. Clouds of hair, shiny as a raven’s wing in the soft light, slid over his ankle. The sensation burned up his leg, teased his thigh like a thousand fingers, burning like fire until it settled low in his groin.

He didn’t move, paralyzed by the sight of the woman in front of him. She was incredibly hot, creeping slowly toward him like a panther stalking her prey. She circled his ankle with her hand. Her touch was light, but it seemed to burn right through his skin as her gaze clung to his, almost as if asking for permission.

The tip of her tongue came out to lick at her bottom lip again. His gaze jumped to her mouth. Her lips were a bow of ruby red, slightly upturned in a mischievous and slightly predatory smile. Images of what those lips could do to him filled his mind, and his cock jerked.

She didn’t move from where she sat between his ankles, but instead stretched her arms and upper body forward to stroke up his shins and over his knees. The motion pushed her breasts forward, drawing attention to her hardened nipples that were barely contained behind the sheer material of her dress. Fingers of desire caressed his thighs, danced over them, kneading and massaging deep into his flesh and then brushing streaks of fire over the nerve endings as she lightened her touch.

Her mouth followed her fingers, a mere brush, a whisper of a touch, her tongue tasting the defined muscle along his calf, her lips following the path of his shin. It was exquisite, and yet not enough. Not even close to enough. His body was already straining from just that little contact with her. Wanting. Needing. Her fingers moved up his body, stroking along the muscles, teasing him with the promise of things to come.

Slowly, she brought one knee up to wedge it between his legs and the breath caught in his throat. His blood thundered in his ears and rushed through his veins with the force of a fireball. Her other knee joined the first and he shifted to accommodate her, spreading his legs wider. His heart was pounding and he released the breath he had been holding with a groan. She lifted her head at the sound and those sapphire eyes found his immediately. She swallowed and the action of her throat sent another groan rumbling through his chest.

It wasn’t a big jump to imagine his cock there.

She was over the top of his thighs now, her face so close to her goal. Her lips, just out of reach. His thighs were spread wide enough to allow her body between his legs. Her hair fell over his skin like a dark waterfall. He swore a thousand fingers danced over his thighs and brushed along his heavy sac.

She stroked her hands up his thighs again and moved them around to the inside of his legs, kneading, caressing as she went. Her mouth followed with small kisses and licks. He felt her tongue slide along his inner thigh, and his balls went tight as she licked her way up to his scrotum. Very gently she cupped his balls, rolling them in her hand as she tugged slightly, stretching the skin and making Dean’s breath leave his throat in a whoosh and his legs move restlessly. 

Her mouth moved over them, her tongue licking and stroking, making little circles that short circuited what was left of coherent thought. Sensations shot straight up his spine. He couldn’t stop the shifting of his legs or the lifting of his hips. She was taking her sweet time getting to her goal and another groan escaped, husky and needy. He was torn between wanting to lie back and enjoy what she was doing to him, and needing to watch her work. He lifted his head from the pillow and the sight of her between his legs, watching his reactions as she lavished such meticulous attention on him, was almost too much to bear. It was as if she was in his mind and knew exactly what he wanted and when he wanted it.

He swore as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, one by one, testing and pressing harder. She gave him a smirk as she transferred her gaze to his cock. Her breath was there, warm and enticing, teasing him with anticipation. She leaned forward and her hair fell around her face, hiding it from Dean’s sight. He couldn’t see what she was doing, but he could feel her hot breath on his skin as she exhaled. He felt his cock being pressed against her closed lips, then just the slightest touch of her tongue as she licked her lips. Dean let his head drop back to his pillow and moaned. The tip of her tongue made a little experimental foray over the velvety crest, catching the droplet that had formed there. Tasting him.

Slowly, she licked the slit. Dean squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, his entire focus on her mouth and what she was doing with it. She swirled her tongue around the head of his cock and hummed in enjoyment. She opened her mouth and pushed it a teasing inch down his aching member until she could wrap her lips around it, just under the sensitive mushroom head. Around and around her tongue went, while her hand slowly pumped up and down his shaft, until Dean felt like his world was spinning.

She pushed her mouth down on his cock again, following her hand down his shaft. This time she took the whole thing in her mouth, slow by agonizingly slow inch, until he could feel her nose nestle into the tight curls at the base. With his cock resting against the back of her throat, she paused, then swallowed. His fists bunched in the sheets at the sensation of her throat muscles working around him.

Slowly, she slid up, grasping the base with her hand as she moved so that he was being enveloped by her mouth and hand. Then, without hesitation, she wrapped her lips around him and swallowed him down again. Her fingers moved against him and he lifted his hips, driving deeper into her mouth. She sucked hard, her tongue sliding under the flared head to find that sweet spot. Her free hand continue to caress him, scorching him with her touch. Her tongue felt like a flame stroking his shaft, licking up and down until her saliva coated his cock.

He realized his lungs was on fire from a lack of air and drew in a ragged breath. In another minute, there was no way he was going to be able to even think. Not with her mouth sucking him hard and then switching abruptly to gentle. Not with her tongue wrapping itself around him, doing little circles and then suddenly fluttering like butterfly wings.

He was panting now, his breath coming in quick gasps of pleasure. His heart beating out a painful rhythm in his chest. His hands grasping for purchase in the tangled sheets around him. The heat in his belly was turning into an inferno, threatening to consume him. He felt like he was going up in flames, with his groin the epicenter, and he wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer.

She seemed to sense his resolve crumbling and began to suck him urgently. He felt a burst of heat rocketing through his body. His hips bucked, pushing his cock even deeper. Her tongue pressed hard against that perfect spot just beneath the head of his cock that sent flames rushing through his veins. 

The explosion was unlike anything he’d ever had in his life. He felt the fire moving up his legs, along the path her fingers had taken. Everything in him, every sensitive nerve ending, from the base of his skull to the tips of his toes, fired and sped toward his groin. Her mouth was hot and moist as she suckled him greedily. She kept him deep and pulled every drop out of him, milking him with her mouth. He felt the tight squeeze of her throat and mouth as his cock swelled and pumped.

His moan turned into a hoarse shout, the cry torn from him as his seed rocketed out of him, driving down her throat. He could see white pinpoints behind his eyelids, like tiny stars. His mind was blissfully blank. There were no thoughts. Only sensations.


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Sam approached the door to the motel room he and Dean shared, when he heard a hoarse cry coming from inside. He quickly shifted the bag of donuts and coffee he was carrying to grab the key out of his pocket. He fumbled with the lock, almost dropping the key in his haste to get the door open, and burst into the room. He did a quick sweep, looking for any unwelcome visitors or assailants. Finding none, he turned his attention to the body lying on the bed. It was Dean, spread-eagled, with the sheets in a tangle around him and one arm flung over the side of the bed, reaching for his gun. He looked like he was asleep, though he was gasping for air and tossing his head from side to side, as if he was in the midst of a nightmare. Sam slapped him on his foot to wake him. “Dean! Hey! Wake up!”

Dean’s eyes flew open at the sound of his name and he patted his chest, like he was looking for something. When he saw Sam standing at the foot of the bed, he got a confused look on his face. “What… What’s going on?”

It was an unwritten, and unspoken, rule that they didn’t talk about their nightmares. They both had things that they were neither ready nor willing to discuss during the light of day, that they were forced to deal with in their dreams. So Sam ignored the question, figuring it was from being suddenly roused from sleep, and lifted the bag and take-out cups into Dean’s line of sight and said, “Breakfast. I found a coffee shop just down the street on my run this morning.”

Dean reached for the bag and opened it. He eyed the contents and asked “Do you run so you can eat donuts?

“Uh, no,” Sam said as he sat one of the cups of coffee on the nightstand next to Dean. “The donuts are for you. I had a bagel and a smoothie on my way back.”

“Well, at least something good came out of your craziness this morning,” Dean said around a mouthful of donut. He took a swallow of coffee before he asked, “Did your research come up with any connections last night?”

Sam sat on the edge of the bed across from Dean and said, “Well, I compared the files I got from Dolly and Mr. Perez, and it’s painting an interesting picture.” 

Dean had smiled and waggled his eyebrows at Sam when he mentioned Dolly, but straightened up and became serious at Sam’s last words. “How so?” he asked.

“Well, I looked up all the symptoms Mr. Perez told us he had noticed about Daniel Welsh and combined them with the serotonin levels in the ME files and came to the conclusion that the guys could have died from sleep deprivation.”

“Seriously?” Dean asked.

“Yeah. In some rare cases, it can cause a heart attack.”

Dean paused for a moment, chewing that last of the donut while he mulled over what Sam had just said. “How does that answer any questions for us? What monster do you know of that causes sleep deprivation or heart attacks?” he finally asked.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are we still here?" Dean asked, his voice slightly raised in frustration. He stood suddenly, which caused Sam to flinch back out of his way as Dean stalked over to the trash can and tossed in the empty bag. “It’s starting to sound like some people were totally stressed about their job or school or family, whatever, and it got the best of them.”

“I would agree, except for the fact that the school links all the victims. Plus, sleep deprivation causing a heart attack is a rare occurrence, and there’s just been too many around here to chalk it up to coincidence.”

Dean scrubbed a hand over his face in aggravation. “Dude. College is stressful. Or so I’ve heard. And people have heart attacks all the time. Besides, you said the school is the connection, but I don’t think it is.”

“What?” Sam asked, confused.

“Brayden Walker, the bar owner? He’s not connected to the school. Unless you found out he was taking night classes or something.”

“No, not that I found,” Sam answered, irritated that Dean had honed in on the one thing that was still bugging him about how this all got started.

“See? It sounds like you’re grasping at straws, Sam. The link between these guys is pretty thin, in my book.”

Sam could tell Dean was getting agitated and tried a different tack. “Okay. I’ll give you that the school doesn’t connect all five guys, but maybe that just means there’s something else that does; something that we haven’t found yet.”

Dean threw his hands out wide in exasperation. “Why are you so sure that there is a case here? You do know people just die, right? Everything doesn’t have to be supernatural.”

“Why are you so adamant there isn’t one?” Sam asked in confusion. “We have bodies piling up, all dead the same way, that shouldn’t be happening, not only because of their age but also because it’s sleep deprivation, and it’s not making any sense,” Sam continued, ticking things off his fingers as he listed them. “I say we keep digging until we know for sure one way or the other. Let’s go talk to one of the families. Asher Ellison was married; we can talk to his wife and see what she has to say.”

Dean sighed in resignation. “Fine. But when we figure out there isn’t anything to all of this, I’m going to say I told you so.”

***

Dean maneuvered the Impala into a parking spot in front of a cookie cutter complex of three-story apartment buildings and put the car in park. He leaned forward and looked at the building through the windshield in disgust and asked, “Are you kidding me?”

Sam glanced up from the file he had open in his lap and looked around. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary he asked, “What?”

“An apartment? What college guy lives in an apartment?”

“Plenty of them. Especially if you’re married and still going to college.”

“Exactly. Who does that?” Dean asked, as if the idea completely bewildered him.

Sam was starting to take offense at Dean’s attitude. “Uh, me, for one. I was going to marry Jess and we were both still in college.”

Dean shook his head, “No, man. College is supposed to be about sowing your wild oats and figuring out what you’re going to do with the rest of your life, not tying yourself down to one girl.”

Sam closed the file in his hand and took a deep breath, tempted to close his eyes and count to ten before he answered. He was completely done with Dean and his wild mood swings. Teasing one minute, pissed the next and now somehow offended that someone would think about getting married and settling down while they were still going to school. Instead, he decided to hit the problem head on and asked, “What has gotten into you lately?”

Dean looked at his brother like he had no idea what he was talking about. “Nothing.”

“Oh really? You were aggressive to the Student Resources guy when you didn’t have to be, you've been borderline stalking the bartender, you’re sleeping every chance you get and now, it’s like you woke up on the wrong side of the bed and you’re walking around with a giant chip on your shoulder. What gives?”

Dean rubbed his eyes while he answered Sam. “I don’t know, man. I’m tired and I am just ready to be done with this nonexistent case.”

Sam sighed and opened the car door. He turned to look at Dean before getting out and said, “Maybe you should wait out here then, while I go talk to Ms. Ellison.”

“No,” Dean said as he dropped his hand away from his face, “I’m not sitting in the car like some little kid. We’re already here, let’s just get this over with.”

***

Sam smiled politely as Ms. Ellison sat two glasses of water on the coffee table in front of the Winchesters. “We’re sorry for your loss, Ms. Ellison, and we promise to be as brief as possible.”

“Thanks, and you can call me Nina. I just don’t understand what Asher’s death has to do with the FBI.”

“We’re trying to get a picture of the kind of man he was, outside of what his file has to say,” Sam answered.

“Oh, he was a great man,” Nina said with a small smile. “Strong. Smart. Funny.” She reached over and stroked a framed photo of the couple on their wedding day. She paused to look at it before continuing. “He wrestled in high school and even though he didn’t get a scholarship, he still kept in great shape. And he had lots of friends. He was just that kind of guy, you know? Everyone just loved him.”

“So there wasn’t anything out of the ordinary with him or his routine before he died?”

“Not really. He wasn’t sleeping well, but he said it was because he was stressed about school. He studied just as hard as he partied, you know.”

Sam asked, “Would you say he was dealing with insomnia?”

“No,” Nina said with a shake of her head. “He was having nightmares. He would toss and turn and mumble in his sleep. When he got up in the morning, he would complain that he was still tired even though he had slept all night.”

“Are you sure he was sleeping all night?” Dean asked. “Could he have gotten up in the middle of the night without you knowing?”

“No. I’m a light sleeper. I would have known if he had gotten up. That’s how I knew he was talking in his sleep because he would wake me up.”

“What was he saying?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know. Gibberish mostly. Nothing that I could understand.”

Dean reached for his glass of water and took a sip. He hit the edge of the coffee table when he tried to sit it back down and ended up dropping it, spilling the water. “Ah, crap. Sorry about that,” he said as he quickly picked up the glass, trying to stop the puddle he had created from growing any larger. 

Nina jumped up and rushed into the small kitchen, retuning a moment later with a towel. “Don’t worry about it,” she said as she blotted up the spill. “No use crying over spilt water.”

Tight smiles were the only response to her attempt at humor. When she returned from putting the now wet towel in the kitchen, Sam said, “Well, just one more question and we’ll get out of your hair.” He showed Nina the pictures of the other victims and asked, “Do you know if your husband knew any of these men?”

She took a moment to consider the men’s photos before answering. “No. None of them look familiar. But like I said, Asher could make friends with anybody. There’s no way I would know everyone he did.”

***

Dean pushed open the door that led out into the parking lot and said “I knew that was going to be a waste of time.”

“Why would you say that?” Sam asked. “We hadn’t heard about the nightmares before.”

“Exactly,” Dean replied. “No one else has mentioned them. These ‘related’ deaths are looking more and more unrelated, to me. Where did you find this case, anyway? The Weekly World News?”

Sam threw Dean a bitchface over the roof of the car as his response when his phone began to ring. He answered with, “Agent Speight.” After a pause, he smiled and said, “Oh, hey Dolly.”

Dean mouthed “Dolly?” with a raised eyebrow.

Sam’s bitchface intensified and he turned sideways so he couldn’t see any more of Dean’s childish reactions while he talked to the ME. “Really? Okay. We’ll be right there.” Sam said, as he hung up the phone. 

“How hard is it for you to NOT say Hello Dolly?” Dean asked with a grin. 

“Some of us aren’t children, Dean,” Sam answered as he opened his car door. “Anyway, we’ve got to go. She’s had another heart attack victim come in with the same MO as the others and thought we’d like to take a look.”

Dean slid behind the wheel and said “Would you two hook up already? You’re making me tired watching you dance around each other. I could give you some tips.”

“You know, Dean, not everything is about hooking up. I happen to respect the woman.”

“Yeah, but, you could respect her in the morning, too,” Dean said with one of his signature cheeky grins.

Sam just smiled and shook his head. “Shut up and drive.”


	11. Chapter 11

Sam nervously ran his hand through his hair and straightened his suit jacket as he and Dean walked down the corridor that led to Dolly’s lab and office. This would be the first time he had seen her since yesterday morning’s… activities, and he was a little anxious about it. Sure, she had sounded fine on the phone earlier, but the conversation had been short and professional, kind of like Dolly herself. Sam chuckled at the thought.

“You know,” Dean said, interrupting Sam from his musings, “if I didn’t know any better, I would think you two had already hooked up.”

“What?” Sam asked, as he tried to look affronted at the idea.

“You did, didn’t you?”

Sam could feel a flush start to creep up his neck and he deliberately refused to look at Dean. ”I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I knew it,” Dean said triumphantly. “You came back to the motel yesterday smiling like a jackass and your suit all wrinkled. You could have at least taken your clothes off before playing doctor.”

Sam said nothing. He knew his face was completely red by now. He thought he had done a pretty decent job of making himself look presentable yesterday, but apparently not to Dean’s keen eyes. 

“Holy shit!” Dean said in an excited whisper, “I was joking, but you seriously did it with your clothes on? Damn Sammy, I’m proud of you. Who knew you had such a kinky side?”

Sam paused long enough to grind out a quiet “shut up” to Dean through his teeth before he opened the door to the lab. The room was eerily quiet and empty. “Dolly?” he called out, “Er… Dr. Wade?”

The men turned at the sound of movement, and Dolly stepped out of her office smiling. She was wearing a spring green button down shirt tucked into belted light brown slacks under her white lab coat. The outfit was completed with a pair of pointy toed dark brown high heels that tapped the floor with her every step. “What’s with all this formality, Sam? I thought after yesterday -” she stopped short when she saw Dean. “Oh. Agent… Benedict, was it? I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Dean gave Sam a shit-eating grin before turning his attention to Dolly. “Wouldn’t miss it. And you can call me Dean."

“Mmhmm,” she answered noncommittally. 

“So,” Sam asked, “what have you got for us?”

“Body came in this morning,” she began, talking as she walked toward the bank of cold drawers along the wall. She pulled open a door and slid one out to reveal a body-shaped mound under a sheet. 

Sam followed, vaguely aware of Dean’s presence behind him. He was too focused on Dolly as she moved across the room. When did the sound of high heels on a tile floor become so arousing?

She pulled the sheet back to reveal the man’s face and continued, looking at Sam as she spoke, “Jonah Baxter. Mid 30s, healthy, worked at the university and died of a heart attack. I immediately thought of you.”

“I bet you did,” Dean mumbled.

Dolly shot Dean a look and said, “Excuse me?”

“I said I’m glad you did,” Dean said, trying to recover. “This is just what we needed.”

“You needed someone else to die?” Dolly asked. She covered the face of the latest victim and crossed her arms, her whole body radiating an irritated disbelief.

“No,” Sam said, jumping in to defuse the situation. “What my partner meant was, another body could mean more clues as to what is going on here. His death is tragic, of course, but we can’t seem to figure out what,”

“If anything,” Dean interrupted. 

“- is going on,” Sam finished, shooting Dean a “shut up” look. He hurried on before Dean could stick his foot further in his mouth. “So was everything the same as the other victims? Serotonin levels included?”

“Ah, so you picked up on that too, huh? I figured you were more than just a pretty face,” Dolly said, smiling up at Sam as she pushed the drawer back into place and closed it.

Dean pretended to gag and covered it up with a cough when both Sam and Dolly looked at him incredulously. 

“Are you okay?” Dolly asked.

“Peachy,” Dean replied. 

His choice of words had Sam’s face flushing again. When he looked at Dolly, he could tell she was thinking the same thing he was, and it wasn’t helping. Dean was grinning like the Cheshire Cat and reveling in their embarrassment. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact, it was the same as the other victims,” Dolly said, ignoring Dean and responding to Sam’s question. “I went back over the other files after you left yesterday and noticed that as well. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.”

Sam tried to assuage any guilt she might be feeling by saying, “Well, serotonin levels aren’t something that people normally think are related to heart attacks.” 

“My thoughts exactly,” Dean murmured to himself.

Dolly turned her head to look at Dean, her narrowed eyes shooting daggers in his direction. “I’m sorry, Agent. Do you have something you’d like to add?”

“Nope,” Dean answered unapologetically. “Please. Continue.”

Sam shot Dean a warning look over Dolly’s head before resuming their conversation. “I did some research last night on serotonin and found out that levels either too high or too low could cause a host of medical issues, including heart problems and even death. Do you think it could have been a contributing factor in these cases?”

Dolly led them away from the cold drawers and back to her workstation in the lab. “Well, yes and no. While it is true that there can be problems associated with serotonin levels, I don’t think that’s the case here. It would have to be a long-term chronic issue before it got to the heart attack stage. And, there would have been signs of stress on the body, the heart especially, that just wasn’t there. Besides, their levels were so low, these men should have been asleep on their feet.”

“Sound like something that’s going around,” Dean chimed in.

“No, I don’t mean just tired, or a slight case of insomnia. I mean their levels were so low, they should have been in REM sleep,” she said as she handed Sam the lab reports from all the victims.

“I’m sorry. What sleep?” Dean asked, confused.

“REM sleep, or Rapid Eye Movement sleep. It’s the stage in our sleep cycle where we dream. In that stage, serotonin is almost non-existent, allowing the brain to create memories, relax the body and restore energy,” Dolly answered. 

She had definitely gone into medical professional mode and Sam thought it was sexy as hell.

Dolly continued, “Have you ever fallen asleep for a short period of time but woke up still feeling like you haven’t rested? It’s because you either didn’t get the chance to enter REM sleep or you didn’t stay there long enough to complete the cycle.”

“So, you didn’t get the chance to recharge the batteries, or at least, not charge them enough,” Dean said, all playfulness from before gone.

“That’s a very simple way of describing it, but in essence, yes.”

“So you’re saying that, according to their serotonin levels, these men should have been dreaming, but weren’t?”

“That, I don’t know. You’d have to ask them, and unfortunately, we can’t. All I can say is what the science is telling me.”

“Thanks, Dolly. You’ve been a big help,” Sam said, nodding at Dean that it was time to go. 

***

Several hours later, Dean pushed his chair back from the small dining table in their motel room and stood. He stretched and rolled his head, trying to work the kinks out of his body from sitting so long, staring at a computer screen. He walked over to the small fridge in the corner of the kitchenette and grabbed a beer. He tossed the cap in the trash and leaned back against the counter. “Okay. So let me get this straight,” he said to Sam. “We've got six guys now, with a very thin connection, dead from a heart attack, with no signs they should have had one. But, they did have serotonin levels so low they should have been in dream land, but weren’t.”

Sam leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Yeah, but remember, Ellison’s wife said she thought he was having nightmares. How do you have a nightmare if you aren’t dreaming?” 

“You’ve got me,” Dean answered. “You find anything?” 

Sam glanced back at his laptop and answered, “Well, strigori and soul eaters are out. They eat your soul or life force or whatever, but leave your body to wither and die while you’re in a coma of sorts.”

“Jinn do pretty much the same thing, except they like to keep their victims close and feed slower,” Dean added.

“Right,” Sam said with a nod. “Then there’s dream walkers, but we can’t find a connection strong enough between the victims to pin down someone who would want all these guys dead.”

“So where does that leave us?” 

“With a succubus or a nightmare.”

“So, a scary but sexy lady and a horse that brings bad dreams? Awesome,” Dean said as he took a long swig of his beer. 

“Not quite. In Germanic lore, a nightmare is an evil spirit or demon that sits on your chest while you sleep and brings bad dreams. I can't figure how they became associated with horses but they are, hence the name.”

“Wait. Wasn’t one of the victims studying to be a vet or something?” 

“Yeah. Um, Riley Tuner,” Sam answered, looking through his notes. “Mid 20s, single, and not in any clubs, fraternities or extra curricular as far as I can see. Why don’t we go talk to his roommate?”

Dean drained his beer and tossed it in the trash. “You do that if you want Sammy, but I'm done for the day and ready to get something to eat. I'll give you three guesses as to where, and the first two don’t count.”

“Really? You think that’s a good idea?”

“Why not?”

“Because you're starting to act like you're obsessed with this woman.”

Dean walked over to the bed where his keys and flannel were laid out and started getting ready to leave. “Good grief, Sam, we've only been in there twice since we've been here. Once for dinner last night and once because one of the guys who died owned the place. I don’t call that obsessive, I call that a happy coincidence.”

“I didn’t think you believed in coincidence.”

“I do this time,” he said with a smile. “You coming?”

Suddenly, the sound of a 60’s big band and the gritty tenor of Louis Armstrong accompanied by Barbara Streisand filled the room with their rendition of “Hello Dolly.” Sam looked down at his vibrating phone and saw Dolly’s name on the screen and immediately picked it up. Dean was laughing so hard he had to sit down and Sam flipped him the bird as he said, “Hello?” 

Dean was so impressed with himself, he missed most of what Sam was saying. When he finally managed to gather his wits about him and wiped the tears out of his eyes, he heard Sam say emphatically, “Actually, yes. I would love to have dinner with you. I’ll see you then.”

Sam hung up and instantly began to fiddle with the settings on his phone. “I bet you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” he asked indignantly. 

“Are you kidding me? I think I’m hilarious,” Dean said, chuckling again. “You should have seen your face when you realized what was going on. It was priceless!”

Sam rolled his eyes as he stood and slipped his phone in his pocket. “Whatever. Let’s go. I’ll drop you off on my way to Dolly’s.”


	12. Chapter 12

Forty-five minutes later, Sam knocked on the door of a small, grey, ranch-style house on the outskirts of town. After a few moments, he heard the lock click and the door opened just enough for him to see Dolly’s hopeful green eyes and curly blond hair. A smile lit up her face as she opened the door wider and stepped back to invite him in. “Hey Sam. Come on in.” 

Sam had thought Dolly was hot the couple of times he had seen her at work, with her button-up shirts, high heels, and black-rimmed glasses, but there was something about seeing her at home and obviously dressed for comfort that immediately turned him on. The fact that he could make out her dark areolas and pebble hard nipples through her lavender camisole helped as well. 

Sam made a cursory effort to wipe his feet on the welcome mat outside the door as he collected himself. “Sorry it took so long for me to get here,” he said as he stepped over the threshold. “I had to drop Dean off before I headed over.”

“No worries. You’re right on time,” she said, closing the door. “Would you do me a favor, though? And take off your shoes? You can put them on the tray next to mine.”

“Sure,” Sam said. He used the short time it took to toe his boots off, to continue his greedy perusal of Dolly. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in the yoga pants that rode low on her hips, clung snugly to her curves and revealed dainty feet, with toes polished blood red. 

“Sorry. I know it’s kind of weird,” Dolly said, sounding a little embarrassed when she realized where Sam was looking, “I’m not a germaphobe or anything; I just don’t like wearing shoes in the house.” When Sam was in his socks she continued with a naughty grin, “Besides, I’ve already managed to get you out of a layer, and you’re just at the door.”

Sam chuckled as she turned to lead him towards the back of the house. The small entryway opened up to a spacious kitchen and dining room combination. Granite grey walls, white cabinets and butcher block countertops all came together to give the room a clean, modern feel. 

Dolly opened the door to the fridge and asked, “Do you want something to drink? I’ve got beer, wine, Coke or water.” 

“A beer sounds good,” Sam answered. “What smells so good? Did you cook?”

“I wish,” Dolly said as she handed him a beer and set a bottle of wine on the counter. Sam twisted off the cap of his beer and watched Dolly as she bustled around the kitchen. She opened a cabinet to her left and reached up for a wine glass, which caused her shirt to ride up and show off a significant amount of honey colored skin. 

“Have you heard of Billie’s BBQ?” When Sam shook his head at her question, she continued. “Oh man. Then I have a treat for you. It’s one of those little hole-in-the-wall, out-of-the-way places, but they make the best barbeque.” She started pulling containers out of a paper bag as she talked. “I hope you’re hungry, cuz I got all the fixins - coleslaw, steak fries, fried okra, and the tenderest brisket you’ve ever put in your mouth.”

“Oh, I’m definitely hungry,” Sam replied, keeping the thought ‘but not for dinner’ to himself. 

Dolly seemed to pick up on where his mind had gone. She turned, arched an eyebrow and asked huskily, “What are you hungry for?”

Sam closed the distance between them and put his hands on either side of her body, crowding her against the counter. “You know, barbeque sounds great, but I've been thinking about peaches all day.”

“Really? What about peaches have you been thinking about?” Dolly asked as she lifted her gaze to meet his. 

Sam bent forward and nuzzled Dolly’s neck as he spoke. “About how soft and smooth their skin is.” She tilted her head back to allow him better access and he closed his eyes as he inhaled her intoxicating scent. “And how delicious they smell,” he said as he exhaled. He trailed small kisses up her jaw before closing his lips around her earlobe, sucking and nibbling the tender flesh before he continued. “And their taste. Sweet and juicy. I just love how a peach melts in my mouth.” 

Dolly moaned and pressed her body against him. “Do you have a favorite peach?”

“Right now, I’m thinking of one that comes from Georgia,” Sam answered as he brushed his lips against hers. 

“Well, Georgia peaches are the best,” Dolly said breathlessly. 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Sam countered as he settled his mouth on hers. He wrapped his arms around her, gathering her close as he savored the feeling of her soft lips and petite but curvy body against his. Dolly moaned as she ran her hands up his arms and into his hair. 

Sam parted his lips and deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue into her mouth to taste her. His hands wandered down her body, tracing her hourglass figure from ribs to hips. He pushed the hem of her shirt up over her breasts and spanned her small ribcage with his large hands, using his thumbs to gently caress her already hardened nipples. 

Dolly moaned again and fisted her hands in his hair as she tried to take control of the kiss. Sam remembered yesterday morning and how aggressive Dolly had been. He had enjoyed it, for damn sure, but decided that he wanted to take his time tonight. Especially since there wasn’t any worry that someone could walk in on them and no brother waiting for him back at the hotel. Sam closed his eyes and rested his forehead against Dolly’s, breathing heavily to try and calm his racing heart, and his raging hard-on. 

“Is something wrong?” Dolly asked. 

Sam opened his eyes and stared down at Dolly’s worried face. He drank in the sight of her wide eyes, flushed cheeks and swollen lips, and his resolve almost crumbled. Almost. “No, nothing’s wrong,” Sam said huskily, “I just want to look at you.” 

He lifted her camisole the rest of the way up and Dolly raised her hands above her head, allowing him to remove it completely. She was beautiful. Her breasts were round and firm, with hardened nipples he was aching to taste. He knelt in front of her and leaned forward to suck one in his mouth. He heard Dolly sigh in contentment and bury her hands in his hair again, gentler this time, but still holding him close while he lavished attention on her breast, licking, biting and rolling her nipple between his lips. Her small moans and quiet gasps urged him on and he switched to her other breast, nuzzling, kissing and sucking until she couldn’t stand it anymore and pulled his head up by his hair so she could attack his mouth. 

Sam broke away and began to pepper kisses down Dolly's torso as he slid his hands up the back of her thighs until he could cup her ass. He noticed he couldn’t feel any panty lines, and immediately slipped his fingers into her waistband, peeling her yoga pants down her legs, revealing the hidden fruit he had been hungry for all day. He couldn’t stop himself from placing a kiss on her smooth mound. The second his tongue met flesh, she gasped.

Sam tapped the inside of one of her legs, urging her to widen her stance. Dolly complied and braced her hands on his shoulders to keep herself steady. His tongue prodded at her slit, teasing her, while one of his hands reached up to fondle her breast. He took his time exploring, up and down her lips, never more than just the slightest pressure. 

“Oh God,” Dolly gasped. “I think I’m going to fall down. My legs are shaking.”

Sam rocked back on his heels and stood. He grabbed Dolly’s thighs and lifted her up, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist as he sat her on the kitchen countertop. 

Dolly laughed and said “What are you doing?”

Sam gave her a sly smile and said, “I told you I was hungry.” He pressed a searing kiss to Dolly’s mouth, pushing her back until she had to prop herself up on her elbows, before he dropped to his knees once more. The sight of Dolly spread out on the counter like a feast before a king, smiling playfully and biting her bottom lip, almost took his breath away. 

He drew her legs wider apart and kissed his way up the inside of her thigh, starting at her knee. When he reached the middle, he swapped sides, kissing and licking his way up her other leg. Her skin smelled sweet and faintly of peaches and vanilla. 

Sam was painfully aroused. He wanted to rip his clothes off and thrust into her. He wanted to fill her, to feel her all around him. But he couldn't let himself do that. He didn't trust himself not to climax the moment their naked flesh touched. Instead, he pressed his face against her smooth mound and he heard her hiss his name as his mouth made contact. A surge of carnal satisfaction tore through him and he smiled against her. 

He eagerly kissed, licked and sucked Dolly’s swollen labia; his tongue lapped hungrily, savoring the warm juices that spilled onto his tongue. Dolly arched her back and Sam watched as her hands skimmed up her body to cup her breasts. She started to knead them, rolling her nipples between her forefinger and thumb as she moaned in pleasure. 

Sam took hold of her ankles and lifted her legs until he could settle her heels on the countertop. With two fingers he traced her outer lips up and down, spreading them open slightly to marvel at the treat in front of him. He eased his long middle finger into the soft, hot channel of her core, and she gasped. Before she could relax he curled it upward and began to stroke it in and out. She cried out, and her hips arched toward him. He added a second finger and she made a noise that seemed to get caught in the back of her throat. 

Sam covered her with his mouth, teasing her arousal higher with his tongue. He zeroed in on that little nub of pleasure at the top of her slit, first circling, then ever-so-gently flicking it, until Dolly’s breathing was reduced to a series of helpless gasps. She grunted with every thrust of his hand and he could tell she was close to reaching her climax. 

Suddenly, Dolly grabbed his hair in her fists, locking him into place between her trembling thighs as she pushed her pussy against his face. The unexpected roughness thrilled Sam and he moaned as he licked her clit furiously, using his lips and teeth and tongue to ignite an orgasm that made her sob his name.

Sam could feel Dolly’s body relaxing as the moments ticked by. She lowered her hips to the counter and the vise-like grip her thighs had on his head eased, but she still hadn’t let go of his hair. He continued to slowly lick her slit, enoying the gasps and quick jerks of her body every time he gently touched her clit with his tongue. Dolly whimpered as Sam eased his fingers out of her and she finally released him, dropping her hands limply to her sides. 

He stood and took in the sight before him. Sam thought there was nothing sexier than a well satisfied woman and Dolly, like this, was gorgeous. Her curls were a tangled mess, her chest heaved slightly as she breathed deeply through kiss swollen lips, and her body was a satiated pool of boneless limbs. He hoped she was only momentarily fulfilled, because he couldn't wait to get his hands on her again. He wanted to feel their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, needed to sheath his thick, rock-hard cock in her wet, scorching-hot channel, to have her scream his name in ecstasy as he pounded into her, over and over again. 

Dolly open her eyes and smiled at Sam. “I told you Georgia peaches were the best,” she said. 

Sam chuckled as he pulled his tee shirt off and tossed it to the floor. “You know, I think you’re right,” he said as he undid his jeans, “but I’m not sure I’ve been able to completely enjoy all the goodness this peach has to offer yet.”

“Well, by all means,” Dolly said as she slipped her feet off the counter and sat up. “I do believe you should have another taste.”

Sam hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his jeans and pushed them down his thighs. He bent over to pull them, and his socks, the rest of the way off. When he straightened, he caught a look of pure desire on Dolly’s face. He watched as her gaze roamed his body, her eyes repeatedly straying back to his impressive cock. 

“You’re not the only one hungry tonight,” she said as she licked her lips. 

Sma stepped between her legs and pressed his aching cock against her. “Oh yeah? What are you hungry for?” he asked, repeating her words from earlier. 

Dolly lifted her lust-filled eyes to Sam’s and said, “You.”

Sam had been a powder keg since he walked in the door, and that one word lit his fuse. He exploded into motion and seized her face between his hands, devouring her mouth with a mind numbing kiss. He felt Dolly’s hands cup his jaw as she kissed him back with wild abandon, urging him on. His lips never left hers, as he roughly grabbed her ass and slid her closer. His tongue was in her mouth, his hands on her body, but it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. Before she could realize what had happened, he had latched onto one of her nipples. Dolly moaned and wrapped her legs around his waist, rolling and bucking her hips against him, matching him thrust for thrust. 

“Bed. Now.”

“Where?” Sam asked with Dolly’s nipple firmly clamped between his teeth. 

“Hall,” Dolly gasped out. “At the end of the hall.”

Sam wasted no time. His hands were already cupping her ass and her legs were wrapped around his torso, so he simply lifted Dolly off the counter and marched out of the kitchen and down the hall. He kicked the door open, strode straight to the large bed against the far wall and tossed her into the middle of it. He caught her easily in his hands when she started to move, and flipped her over fast and hard, taking her breath away. He dragged her hips up and back, forcing her toward the edge of the bed. Her butt was beautiful, round and firm and so enticing. He playfully smacked her ass, causing her to gasp in surprise and groan with pleasure. His handprint was on her butt, and he bent his head to kiss the center of it before rubbing the sting away. 

He kneaded her cheeks before wrapping one arm around her waist to hold her, while he slowly pushed one, two, then three fingers into her slick, damp heat, partially withdrawing each time before adding another, stretching her. She cried out, panting, pushing back onto his hand, wiggling her hips to entice and tempt him. Listening to Dolly’s gasps and moans, watching as he pumped his fingers in and out, feeling them become more and more drenched in her juices, had him growling in satisfaction. Damn she was tight, but so wet, and seeing his fingers sink into her, had Sam so hard, it was almost painful.

He withdrew his fingers and gripped his throbbing cock, running it over her ass. His skin felt so hot it almost burned. He teased her slit, running the head of his cock up and down, wetting the tip with her juices before placed the head at her hot, slick opening. She tried to impale herself, pushing back with a small lunge, but he held her. He loved that she couldn’t stop moving, desperate to get to him, uncaring that she was shamelessly showing how much she wanted him. He wanted her every bit as much. Her need was an aphrodisiac, taking his lust and pleasure to a new high. 

He put one of his large hands in the middle of her shoulder blades and pressed down, pushing her into the mattress and forcing her ass further into the air. She slid her hands out in front her, arched her back and twisted her hands in the sheets. 

He took his time, slowly, oh so slowly, pushing into her. He was long and thick and so damned hard, and she was exquisitely tight and fiery hot. There was a moment of slight resistance as he pressed into her, before her body opened for him, allowing the thick head of his cock to slip inside. Sam heard the growl rumbling in his chest when her silken sheath clamped down on him, wrapping him in flaming silk. Dolly’s hips trembled and she choked on her own moan as he filled her up.

He pulled back with equal slowness, a study in control, refusing to allow her hips to follow him as he nearly drew out of her before taking that slow, hot ride back in while her body gripped him tightly. She gave a moan of protest, and reached back to to grip his thighs, pulling, beckoning, trying desperately to force him to speed up his pace. He craved her, his body every bit as desperate, but he took his time, enjoying the way his hungry cock disappeared into paradise while flames ate his shaft.

He smacked her ass again just to feel that flair of honeyed heat flowing around him. Suddenly, he plunged hard and deep. She cried out as her muscles clenched him tightly, hips rocking back to meet the brutal thrust. His cock burned, pushing through all those hot, tight folds, stretching her. 

She lay face down, chanting his name almost mindlessly while his cock slammed into her over and over, harder and harder. The frantic pace set up a hot friction that sent sensations rushing to every part of his body, until there wasn't a place on him that wasn't frantic for release. Every thrust brought his shaft dragging over her inflamed muscles, the pressure building like a tsunami. He was so close to exploding, his groans become inhuman, almost animalistic.

He felt her begin to come around him, her pussy contracting wildly on his still-pumping cock as she trembled and moaned. The explosion sent quakes ripping through her body. Her walls clamped down on him as her pussy went through spasm after spasm of intense orgasm. Her muscles convulsed around his thick cock, taking him with her over the edge. A hoarse cry was torn from his throat as his own body erupted like a volcano.

He collapsed forward, holding himself up by his elbows to keep his weight from smothering her, fighting for his breath while he tried to calm his pounding heart. He nuzzled her hair out of the way to kiss the nape of her neck. Beneath him, she shivered, aftershocks rocking both of them. He wanted to stay right where he was while her body contracted around his, sending pulses of pleasure through him. Sam wrapped an arm around her body, rolled to his side, pulled her close and threw a leg over hers. He was sated for the moment, drained, feeling relaxed and unbelievably happy.


	13. Chapter 13

When Sam woke some time later, he found himself alone. The pillow next to him was slightly warm, so he knew Dolly couldn’t have been up very long. The muffled sound of his phone ringing had him searching the bed, before he remembered that it was still in the pocket of his jeans, and they were on the floor in the kitchen. He was contemplating ignoring the blasted thing and waiting for Dolly to rejoin him, when it went quiet mid-ring. He guessed that Dolly had found and silenced it, so he decided it was best if he got up. 

Sam felt a little awkward walking through Dolly’s house stark naked, so he grabbed a towel from the adjoining bathroom and wrapped it around his waist. He looked longingly at the shower and thought maybe he could talk Dolly into sharing one with him later as he left the room and headed down the hall. 

Sam stopped in his tracks when he entered the kitchen. Dolly was wearing a silk robe belted at the waist, patterned with dainty flowers in vibrant colors that contrasted with the midnight black background. He could barely see the bottom of her ass cheeks as she bent over to put something in the refrigerator. She closed the door and turned, letting out a startled squeal when she saw Sam standing behind her.

“Sorry.  Didn’t mean to scare you,” he said with a lopsided grin. 

“Good lord,” she said. “They teach you how to sneak around like that at Quantico?”

“Nah,” he answered, as he moved closer and wrapped his arms around her. “It's just one of my many talents.”

“You seem to have a lot of… hidden talents.”

“You have no idea,” Sam said, bringing his lips down to meet hers.

Dolly pulled away when Sam’s phone dinged, alerting them to an incoming text message. “You might want to get that,” she said. “Dean has been blowing up your phone for a while now.”

Sam reluctantly released her and looked around for his jeans. He spotted them and his tee shirt, folded neatly on the kitchen table, his phone lying on top. He suddenly got a sinking feeling in his stomach as he picked up his phone. He saw two missed calls and a dozen text messages from Dean. He ignored the voicemails and scrolled through the messages.

_ Sam _

_ Sammy _

_ where ur at  _

_ com drink wiith me _

_ alcohol  _

_ teh bartender is baningg hot _

_ her name is kKrwaa _

_ kpara _

_ dam it _

_ k a r a  _

_ hecy man dont lreave yuor ebig broothr hangn  _

_ lfine be tkhat way vill fnid someoone else tto drink with _

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. Damn it. Why did Dean pick tonight, of all nights, to drunk text him? 

“You’re not really FBI, are you?” Dolly said to Sam’s back.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, turning to face her.

“Don’t lie to me, Sam. I’m not stupid,” Dolly said. “I know you’re not FBI, there’s too much here that doesn’t make sense. Your hair is too long, Dean’s too disinterested, and there is no reason for the Feds to be down here investigating a bunch of heart attacks. Not to mention the ‘big brother’ comment from Dean and the weird occult tattoo on your chest. I just can’t seem to figure out what your game is here.” 

She didn’t seem angry, at least not like she had been at Dean the couple of times they had bumped heads. She seemed… disappointed, Sam thought, but he couldn’t tell if it was with him or with herself. A million thoughts raced through his mind. Should he come clean and tell her the truth? Or should he try to keep up the act and convince her that they really were FBI?

Dolly seemed to be able to read his thoughts, because before he could decide, she continued. “And be very careful about what your next words are, because if I don’t like them, and think you’re still lying to me, I will call the authorities. The real ones.”

Sam sighed again, the decision made for him. “You won’t believe me, even if I tell you the truth.”

“Try me.”

“OK,” he said, grabbing his tee shirt and pulling it on. He turned his back to her and dropped the towel before he slipped into his jeans. When he turned around, Dolly’s gaze was glued to his butt, but he saw her shake her head and look him in the face. 

“I’m waiting,” she prompted.

“You’re right. We’re not FBI,” Sam confirmed. “And Dean isn’t my partner, he’s my brother.”

“OK. If you guys aren't FBI, then what are you?”

“Hunters.”

“Bounty hunters?” 

“Monster hunters,” Sam answered, knowing he sounded like a lunatic.

“Monsters. Like the really bad guys that the police can't catch? Those kind of monsters?” Dolly asked.

He heard a hint of hopefulness in her voice, and almost went with the lie, but he knew she would see through it. “No, I mean monsters. Ghosts, vampires, werewolves. Real monsters,” he said. He realized there was no going back now, for either of them. 

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish,” Sam said, with a sad smile. Good God how he wished he was kidding.

“OK. So let me get this straight. You and Dean, who’s your brother, your big brother in fact, you guys go around pretending to be FBI, so you can hunt monsters.”

It was way more complicated than that, but he let it go. “Pretty much.”

“And that’s why you're here? Tracking a monster?”

“It's why we're in town, yes, but it’s not why I’m here tonight.”

Dolly closed her eyes and raised her hand in a “stop” motion, and the rest of what Sam had to say died on his lips. The silence was deafening, but Sam let her have it. This was a lot to have to take in, and usually the person he was explaining it to was caught up in the middle of whatever was going on, which made it easier to believe.

Dolly opened her eyes and crossed her arms, obviously having come to some sort of decision. “So what's killing these men?” she asked.

Sam was little surprised at how calmly she was taking it. Most people either thought they were crazy or making a joke. Dolly, on the other hand, was taking him seriously. “I don't know,” he answered truthfully.

“Wait. What do you mean you don't know?”

“This is something we've never run up against. Most of the time we figure it out pretty quickly and it's just a matter of tracking the thing down and killing it, but the way these men are dying… it could be several things. And until we figure out what the connection between them is, we have no idea where to start looking for it. Whatever it is.”

“What if there isn't a monster? What if it's just coincidence?”

“Now you're starting to sound like Dean.”

As the words left his mouth, his phone dinged, alerting him to another text message. Looking down at his phone he said, “Speaking of Dean…”

“You need to go, don't you?” Dolly asked.

Sam looked at Dolly, hoping she could see the honesty in his face when he said, “I don't want to.”

She nodded, once, and said, “Go. Take care of your brother. I’ve got a lot to think about anyway.”

***

It was late by the time Sam got to the Saddle Up Saloon, and the Friday night crowd was in full swing. There was a good mix of people, from all age groups and walks of life, toasting the beginning of the weekend. He managed to find Dean, propped up against the bar, having a drunken conversation with the guy next to him. Sam caught his attention and waved him towards an empty high-top table against the wall and sat down. He watched as Dean fought his way through the crowd to join him. 

“SAMMY! You made it! You need a drink!” Dean said excitedly, slurring his words as he signaled a waitress. 

“Dean, I–”

“Two shots of whiskey and a couple of beers,” Dean said, hardly looking at the woman as he spoke. 

She looked at Sam for confirmation, and he took the opportunity to correct Dean. “Just a coke for me. I’m driving.”

She smiled her understanding and left them to their conversation. 

“Ah, come on Sammy. You’re always a spoilsport. Don’t do this.”

“I’m not trying to spoil your fun, Dean, but I did come to take your drunk ass back to the motel.”

“See? Spoilsport,” Dean replied. "Come on man, the night is young and so am I." 

Sam noticed there seemed to be a few more s’s in Dean’s response than was necessary and decided to change the subject. "It doesn't look like you’re the only one hitting on Kara tonight."   


“Nope. But I was the only one she slipped her digits to,” Dean said, triumphantly flashing a napkin with numbers scrawled on it.   
  
“You sure about that?” Sam asked, nodding in the direction of the bar.

Dean looked over his shoulder, swaying slightly. When he saw the guy he had just been talking to trying to chat up the bartender, he quickly straightened. “I don’t know what the fuck he thinks he’s doing.”

“Jealous, much?” Sam asked, a little shocked at the heated response from his brother.

“Pffft. He doesn’t stand a chance. He’s a douche,” Dean replied. 

Sam didn’t quite believe him. Dean had an intense, almost predatory, look on his face as he watched the two.  

The waitress interrupted Sam’s thoughts as she placed their drinks on the table. “Thanks,” he said, stopping her before she could turn away. “And we need to settle up his tab.” Sam pulled his wallet out and handed her enough money to cover what she had brought, plus what he hoped was enough for Dean’s drinks so far.

“Sure thing. I’ll be right back,” she said.

Sam grabbed the soda and took a long drink, almost draining it. He put the cup down just in time to see Dean slam his shot and switch his empty beer for the full one the waitress had left for him. “I'm gonna hit the head. The waitress should have my change by the time I get back and then we’ll be ready to go. OK?” 

“Whatever you say, Sammy.” Dean replied, without taking his eyes off the “douche” and the bartender.    


***

Sam had ignored everything hanging on the walls as he made his way to the bathroom door marked “Cowboys,” but on his way out, a brightly colored bulletin board attracted his attention. It was for the winners of the weekly Trivia Night contest held at the bar, but what had caught his eye was a picture dated from the night before. In the background was the latest victim, sitting alone at the bar, watching the winning team collect their reward. Sam’s brain went into overdrive as some of the pieces started clicking into place. What if it wasn’t the university that was the connection between the victims, but this bar? That would explain why the first victim, the bar owner, didn’t fit the pattern. 

Suddenly, Sam heard raised voices and the sound of shattering glass. He hurried into the main room of the bar to see Dean and another man squared off with each other. Dean had his fists raised and the guy had a broken beer bottle in his hand, the jagged edges pointed dangerously in Dean’s direction. Sam couldn’t make it through the swarm of people backing away from the fight that was obviously about to happen, before the man charged at Dean, swiping up with the broken bottle towards his face. 

Dean might have been drunk, but he’d also been fighting his whole life—things way more dangerous than this guy. He saw the opening the man gave him and took it, lunging and wrapping his arms around the guy’s chest and knocking him to the ground. Sam lost sight of them when they went down. 

“DEAN!” Sam yelled. When he was able to push through the few people left in his way he found Dean straddling the man, one hand fisted in his shirt, the other pounding his face again and again until his head lolled to the side. 

“Dean!” Sam yelled again. “Stop!  He’s out! You’re gonna kill him!”

Dean looked up at him, almost in a daze and Sam grabbed him, both hands fisting in the material of his shirt, and hauled him off the guy. He physically turned him towards the door, where they were met by a large, intimidating man wearing a black shirt that said SECURITY on it in blocky yellow letters. “He’s got to go,” he said to Sam.

“Fat lot of good you were,” Dean said to the bouncer, taunting him. 

Sam saw the bouncer roll his shoulders back and take a deep breath, but cut him off before he could say anything. “We’re going. No need for any more trouble,” he said as he pushed Dean past him, out the door and into the humid Texas night. 

***

Sam had fumed all the way back to the motel, gritting his teeth in absolute outrage at Dean. He didn’t trust himself to not fly off the handle, so he decided to wait until they were back in their room before saying anything. Unfortunately, by that time, Dean was well and truly passed out. Sam had to basically drag him out of the car and into the room, where he unceremoniously dumped him on the bed. He shook his head at his unconscious brother, hoping to God that he could figure out whatever it was that was eating Dean. 


	14. Chapter 14

Dean’s hands dropped to the buttons of the shirt she wore. As he undid them, his knuckles brushed bare skin, that swell of her breast that he found so fascinating. He kept his gaze locked with hers as he stroked her silken skin. There was this… need, growing inside him and he knew that soon it was going to be all-consuming. She wanted him, he could see it in the way she ate him up with her eyes.

He pushed the edges of the shirt over her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Her hands were sure as she slipped them under the hem of his tee. She ran them up his belly to his chest, lifting his shirt as she went. He dipped his head and allowed her to pull the garment off. Her hands dropped to the button of his jeans. There was an aggression in her touch he hadn't expected but he said nothing as she pushed his jeans down the column of his thighs so he could kick them off.

Burying his hands in the black, silky mass of her hair, he bent his head to take possession of her mouth. He feasted on her, savoring the luscious sweetness and fiery spice that caught his blood on fire. His cock pressed hard against her belly as her hands caught at his shoulders for support. He moved his hips, thrusting rhythmically, while rockets roared in his brain at the sensation. Her tongue tangled with his, her nails sinking into the muscle of his shoulders while her body trembled.

He lowered her to the mattress, unbuttoning her jeans with one hand and tugging at them, impatient to get them the hell off. He followed her down, not wanting to lose contact. The feel of her small body, all feminine curves and velvety skin, only added to the fever raging in him. He stared down at her, drinking in her lush curves and narrow rib cage. Her flushed breasts rose and fell with her ragged breathing. Her nipples were twin hard peaks. His mouth closed over one, sucking strongly. His tongue flicked and caressed one nipple while he tugged and rolled the other. Her voice came out in a gasping purr and she arched her back, pushing her breast deeper into his mouth.

He sucked and licked his way from her breasts to her belly, his hands stroking her thighs before pushing them apart and bending his head for a long leisurely taste. Her breath hissed out and she jumped, her hips trying to buck. He tightened his hold and took his time licking, relishing the sweet honey spilling out of her.

He could feel her fingers pulling at his hair, and the muscles in her abdomen bunching. Her breath came in a series of gasping pants. His circled her clit with his tongue while she moaned and squirmed. He murmured his appreciation, making hot, sexy noises as he lapped at her. She clawed his shoulders, trying to stay still but unable to comply with his silent command. He was watching her, with heavy-lidded eyes as he drove her toward her orgasm. He slid a hand up her thigh and pushed one of his fingers deep, using his thumb to tease her clit. As the rush overtook her, he quickly replaced his finger with his mouth, tongue driving deep, increasing the strength of her orgasm until she writhed and moaned his name. 

Triumphant, he lifted his head and looked down at the woman. She was stunningly sensual with her hair splayed across the pillow, her eyes glazed with pleasure, and the marks of his mouth, small raspberry brands, all over her body. 

He reared up on the bed, hooked his hands behind her knees and dragged her up over his thighs until he was nestled against her soft mound. He rocked forward, sliding back and forth, enjoying the feel of his cock grinding against her clit while she grew wetter with every movement of his hips. He paused long enough to position the head teasingly between her slick outer lips before slowly pushing into her, only coming to a stop when he was balls deep in her scorching heat. She wailed at the combined sensations of pain and pleasure from the sudden intrusion of his rigid cock impaling her body. It was only due to his immense self-control that Dean was able to hold still as her inner muscles gripped him tightly and her sweet juices coated him. She dug her fingernails into his back, causing him to groan and arch his back, pushing a little farther into her fiery channel. 

Dean began to move, his cock gliding in and out of her tight wet passage. He gripped her hips, pulling her close, needing to feel as much of her skin against his as possible. She raked her nails down his back, carving a trail of fire from his shoulders to his ass that quickly spread to his entire body and made him moan in ecstacy. He picked up his pace, his hot, hard dick burning with the friction of their bodies' motions as he hammered at her tight pussy. 

The only thing Dean could hear over the pounding of his heartbeat was the sound of their bodies slapping as his pace quickened even more. His vision had narrowed to a pinpoint; the only thing he could, or wanted to, see was the woman lying on her back in front of him. The way her breasts bounced with every stab of his cock, the blush of her cheeks, and her eyes, so blue that they seemed to glow. 

Dean could feel her muscles squeezing his cock as she approached her orgasm. Her hands gripped his ass tighter, trying to pull him closer to maximize the depth his cock reached inside her. Dean felt his cock swelling painfully larger and fuller, his whole body tingling with the heightened sensations of pleasure and pain. He was worried that he was stretching her to her limit when she gasped, but he couldn’t stop the relentless pace he had started. It was as if something else was in control of his body, driving him to pound into her over and over again. 

She released her grip on him to slide her hands up his back, her nails scraping against his scalp as she tried to fist them in his short hair. His hips never stopped pistoning into her, even when she forced him to lean forward so she could pull his head down toward hers. She kissed his whole face; teeth biting his lips, tongue licking his chin, lips sucking on his neck and shoulder. She wrapped her legs around his torso, holding him tighter, her heels digging into his back, not allowing him to do anything but continue to pummel her pussy with his aching cock. 

Dean felt his balls begin to tighten and his body tense. He swore angrily, as he tried to hold out as long as he could, wanting to prolong the experience. She locked her sapphire gaze with his and she seemed to be looking INTO him, searching, watching, waiting, until she appeared satisfied with what she saw. Dean let go of her hip and slid his hand between their bodies, pressing down on her clit with his fingers, rubbing it hard and fast as he thrust into her. He saw her bite her lip and close her eyes as her orgasm erupted, her body clamping down on him, her back arching off the bed, and her hips bucking wildly, riding him for all she was worth. His fingers followed her body, vigorously rubbing her clit even as she thrashed and shook from the intense sensation. 

With a loud guttural moan, Dean let go. The head of his cock opened like the floodgates of a dam, his hot, sticky come shot forth in powerful blasts, hitting her inner walls with force. Her hips continued bucking, more wildly than before, as he felt her pussy spasming in pleasure. Dean groaned, unable to control himself as another spurt of cum shot out of his hard, throbbing cock. Her inner muscles gripped him tightly, holding him inside her as if she didn’t want to lose a single drop of his come, milking the shaft of his burning cock, coaxing every last ounce of it from his body. 

Dean collapsed on top of her, his strength utterly drained. He knew he was too heavy, but he couldn't find the energy to lift his body. The last thing he was aware of as his vision greyed around the edges, was slight panic at his inability to move.


	15. Chapter 15

Sam was lying on his side, his back against the wall, when he heard the alarm go off. He refused to open his eyes and instead slipped his hand out from under his pillow and slapped in the general direction of the beeping until it stopped. He was trying to decide whether he wanted to get up or not, when a noise caught his attention. He initially dismissed it as Dean snoring, but something was… odd about the sound. He blinked his eyes open against the sunshine filtering through the motel curtains and focused on his brother in the other bed, trying to figure out what his subconscious had picked up on while he was asleep. 

He expected to see Dean sprawled out and snoring to beat the band, but instead, he was on his side, facing Sam, curled up in the fetal position. His was face was a mask of pain, with his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched tight. His hands were balled into fists over his chest, clutching at his shirt as if he was clinging on for dear life. Sam realized that the noise he heard was Dean gasping in a sharp intake of breath before softly groaning out a long exhale. 

Sam immediately swung his feet to the floor, stood and covered the small distance between the beds with a single stride. When he laid a hand on Dean’s shoulder to wake him, he was stunned to find him drenched in sweat and shivering. He tried shaking him, but Dean’s whole body was so tense that he was only able to rock him back and forth. He called Dean’s name and shoved him again, relieved when this time, Dean’s body relaxed enough so that Sam could push him onto his back. 

Sam gripped Dean by his shoulders and shook him again, talking as he did so. “Dean? Wake up.” He slid one hand up to Dean’s face and slapped it lightly. “Come on Dean, you’re scaring me. Wake up.” Sam watched as Dean relaxed, his hands slowly unclenched and his face no longer contorted in pain. He drew in a deep breath and opened his eyes, and Sam let out a sigh of relief. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked groggily. 

“I thought you were having a seizure. Are you OK?” 

Dean closed his eyes again before answering Sam. “It’s just a hangover, Sam. Nothing that coffee and a few thousand milligrams of ibuprofen can’t fix.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Now, get out of my face and go take a shower. You stink.” 

Sam leaned back and frowned. “Pretty sure you’re smelling yourself.”

Dean lifted his arm to his nose for a sniff and grimaced. “Whatever. Just don’t use up all the hot water.”

***

When Sam came out of the bathroom, he noticed Dean sitting on the side of his bed, nursing a cup of coffee. He was still dressed, since Sam had only removed his boots after dropping him on the bed the night before, but his skin looked ashen and pale. “You sure you’re OK, man? You look like shit,” he said. 

“I think I'm getting too old for this,” was Dean’s reply.

“What happened to the 'night is young and so am I'?” Sam asked as he walked to the mini coffee pot, trying to lighten the mood.

Dean ignored his question. "There's no more coffee,” he said as Sam poured the last few drops into his mug. “There was only enough for one cup. Grab us breakfast while I shower, would ya?” 

Sam replaced the empty carafe and said, “Fine. There should be plenty of hot water. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He had barely closed the motel room door behind him when his phone rang. He was surprised, and a little anxious, when he saw Dolly’s name pop up on the screen. He answered with a hopeful, but cheery, “Hey Dolly.”

“Hey Sam. Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” she said, getting right to the point. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I want to help.”

“Really?” Sam said, surprised. 

“Yes. I figured that if you guys were still stumped with this whole ‘who’s the monster’ thing, I want to help. You know, fresh eyes, new perspective and all that.”

“But you’ve already been a big help. I wasn’t just saying that to be nice the other day.”

“Great. So you know how valuable of an asset I can be,” she countered.

“Dolly, being in the field is different than sitting behind a desk with paperwork. This could get dangerous.”

“I can take of myself, Sam. But, if I do find myself in any danger, you’ll be right beside me, right?”

“Of course, but I don’t know about this.”

“I tell you what,” she said, obviously not taking no for an answer, “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed. You talk it over with Dean and get back to me, OK?”

***

Sam returned a little while later with coffee and a healthier breakfast than Dean usually ordered, egg white breakfast sandwiches with fresh avocado, kale and almond butter. He could hear the shower running so he yelled out, "Food's here!" 

Moments later, Dean appeared, dressed only in his boxers. "I think I'm gonna let you handle this one,” he said.

“What? Why?” Sam asked. 

“Dude, I feel like crap.”

“What's wrong?”

“What isn't wrong?” Dean said testily. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. I’ve got a headache, everything hurts, I’m tired and dizzy as all get out. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I was still drunk. I feel like I need to go back to bed and just start all over again.”

“Did you actually get any sleep last night?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you have any nightmares?” Sam asked.

“No, why? You think this nightmare thing is after me?”

“Well, your symptoms fit,” Sam said with a shrug.

“I don’t know, man. I just think last night is catching up with me. Besides, you’ve been everywhere I've been and you haven't been affected.” 

“That’s true, but you have to admit that you’ve been a little… off since we got into town.”

“Come on, Sam. Don’t start that shit again,” Dean said as he grabbed his cup of coffee and headed back towards the bathroom, effectively ending the conversation. 

“Fine,” Sam said to Dean’s back, “I'll call you when I'm done.”

Dean simply lifted his hand in acknowledgement as he disappeared into the steam-filled bathroom, leaving Sam shaking his head in disappointment. 

***

Sam stood on the sidewalk next to the Impala, staring at Dolly’s name in his contacts, silently cursing himself for even thinking about dragging her into this investigation. She had done enough already, knew enough already, did he really want her possibly seeing the gory side of his life? He wasn’t trying to brush her off earlier, this could get dangerous, but on the other hand, how much trouble could they get into while interviewing people who had known the victims? “Famous last words…” he muttered to himself as he hit the call button. 

She picked up after only a couple of rings. “Hey, Sam. What’s the verdict?”

“Well, we were going to interview one of the victim’s roommates, but it looks like Dean’s going to be out of commission this morning, so, if you’re still interested in coming along-”

“Yes,” Dolly said, cutting him off. “Absolutely. I’ll be ready when you get here.” 

Sam found himself listening to silence as the line went dead. Dolly had hung up without so much as a goodbye. He was unsure of what to make of their incredibly quick conversation and hoped that he had made the right choice.

***

Some time later, Sam pulled into Dolly’s driveway. Before he could get out of the car, she stepped out of the house, waved, and turned to lock the door. Dolly had obviously taken cues from what he and Dean had worn on their visits to her office and was dressed similarly. She was outfitted in a sky blue button down shirt tucked into a knee-length, black skirt. When she turned back towards the car, he saw her drop her keys into a medium sized leather tote and rearrange a matching suit jacket over her arm. As she walked towards him, he could hear the tapping of her heels on the concrete and he swore under his breath. She smiled as she opened the car door and Sam was speechless as he watched her slide in, her skirt riding up to show off well toned legs as she settled herself in the front seat. Why, in the name of all that was holy, did she have to be so effortlessly sexy? 

She sat her bag on the floorboard, blocking Sam’s view of her legs, and started rummaging around in it, coming up with two travel mugs. Offering him one, she said, “Morning! Thought you might appreciate some coffee. And I promise, it's way better than that brown hot water they serve out of the vending machines at the station.”

“Thanks. You weren’t kidding when you said you’d be ready when I got here, were you?”

She chuckled quietly before answering. “Nope. I’m interested in what you do and wanted to see what all the hoopla is about. Besides, you can’t miss the sound of this gorgeous piece of machinery pulling into the drive,” she said as she ran a hand along the dash. “Do you drive around in this all the time?”

Sam started the engine and reversed out onto the road as he spoke. “Yeah. She’s Dean’s Baby. Even when she gets busted up, he’ll work on her til she’s mint again.”

“Oh wow,” she said surprised. “I guess you really shouldn’t judge a book by it’s cover, huh?”

“You mean Dean?” Dolly took a sip of her coffee and nodded yes, and Sam continued. “Yeah, us Winchesters have all sorts of hidden talents.”

She smiled at his reference to the night before and asked, “Winchester? Is that your last name?”

“Yup.”

“Really? Any relation to the famous Winchesters and that crazy house out in California?”

“I don’t know. We lost our mom when we were really young and we moved around a lot afterward, so we didn’t really get to know any of our extended family until later in life. But no one has mentioned it, and I guess we’ve never really thought to look into it.”

“Hmmm… Ok. Well, catch me up on the case.”

***

The drive to Riley Turner’s house didn’t take long, which was a good thing since there wasn’t much “catching up” that Sam had to do with Dolly. She knew about half of what they had found during their investigation, since she had been part of it. Sam took most of the time they had to fill her in on some of the lore connected with the monsters they suspected were causing all the deaths. By the time Sam and Dolly reached the house Riley had shared with several other roommates, she seemed confident and eager. 

Sam and Dolly were soon squished together on a small, worn out old loveseat across from Mike, one of Riley’s roommates, and Mike’s girlfriend, Renee. "So there wasn’t anything odd or out of the ordinary, anything different in his life before he died?” Sam asked.

“Nah,” Mike answered. “Just normal stuff. Classes and stuff, you know. He kind of kept to himself.”

“Well, there was that one thing, remember Mike?” Renee interrupted.

“What?"

Turning to address Sam, she continued. "We had come home late one night and Riley must have fallen asleep on the couch while we were gone. We were trying to be quiet as we went through the living room, and he kind of like, shouted something.”

“What did he say?” Dolly asked. 

“Nothing. He just kind of went aaah. We thought he was trying to scare us at first, but then we realized he really was asleep. I guess he was having a nightmare or something.”

“Or something,” Mike interjected with a cheeky grin. 

Renee slapped at Mike’s arm and said scornfully, “Oh grow up, Mike. Stop being gross.”

“What?” Mike said, unrepentantly. “It's not my fault that the noises he as making was more happy than nightmare.” 

“What do you mean?” Sam asked, intrigued at the turn the conversation was taking. 

“Well, the noses he was making after we figured out he was still asleep, and the way he was moving around on the couch sounded like…" Mike said, letting his words trail off. 

“OK. I'll bite. Sounded like what?” Dolly asked.

“Sounded like he was enjoying himself, you know? Like…"

“Yup. OK. Got it.” Sam said, interrupting Mike before her could get graphic. 

“It wasn’t the only time it happened either,” Mike continued. “I actually thought he had a girl in his room one night. I had gotten up to use the bathroom and heard him. I was kinda proud of him, you know? But when I mentioned it to him the next day, he acted like he didn’t know what I was talking about. Said he hadn't had a girl in his room.”

“So what happened after that?” Dolly asked.

“I told him to keep the volume down on his porn and didn’t really think about it.”

“OK, well, thank you for your time and… information.” Sam said, looking at Dolly and standing to leave. “It’s been… helpful.” 

Sam was quiet as he and Dolly walked back to the Impala. He was trying to make all the random bits of information he had running around in his head fit together.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Dolly said, jarring Sam out of his silence.

He realized he was sitting in the car, keys in hand, staring blankly out the windshield. “Sorry. I was just thinking about Dean.”

“What about Dean?” Dolly asked.

“He’s been acting weird ever since we got into town. I just thought something was eating at him and I’d eventually figure out what it was, but now I’m not so sure,” he answered, reaching into his pocket to grab his phone and call Dean. When there was no answer, he left a voicemail. “Dean, hey its me. Listen, I think I’ve figured out what we’re dealing with here, but I’m going to talk to Vincent McCabe’s girlfriend to make sure. Call me when you get this.”

“So what are we dealing with?” Dolly asked.

In response, Sam cranked the car and said, “Grab my laptop out of the backseat and look up information on a succubus.” 

*** 

An attractive, curvy brunette woman opened the door to Sam's knock. “Yeah?”

“Judy Fordham?”

“Yeah,” she said again, impatiently.

“Hi, I'm Sam Jones from Willmount University and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.”

She stepped out onto the small porch, closing the door behind her. “About what?”

“Vincent McCabe.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked, crossing her arms in a definite sign of annoyance.

“Well, what can you tell me about the days leading up to his death?” 

“Nothing. I caught him cheating and threw him out. When I found out he died, I figured he had a heart attack fucking his side piece.”

“You caught him cheating?”

“Yeah. Well, not actually in the act, but when a guy is moaning another woman’s name in his sleep, you get the idea. He said there wasn’t anyone else but I'm not stupid.”

“Who's name did he call out? Do you know her?”

“Kara. I think she's the new bartender down at the Saddle Up Saloon.”

Turning abruptly, Sam almost ran down the porch steps in his haste to get back to the car. Pulling out his phone, he called Dean, worried when it again went straight to voicemail.


	16. Chapter 16

Dean heard his phone ringing and hurried out of the bathroom, reaching it just in time for it to go to voicemail. Looking at the caller ID he said "Yes, Sam. I'm fine." Noticing the napkin on the floor next to his jeans from the night before, he picked it up and looked at the numbers scrawled on it. Making a decision, he dialed.

He was just about to give up and end the call when a husky female voice answered. "Hello?"

"Is this Kara?”

The voice on the other end of the line sounded slightly wary. “Yes.” 

“Hey. This is Dean. From the bar last night? Seems like you’re doing better than I am this morning,” he said. 

"Dean?"

“You sound surprised to hear from me.”

“Well, I am a little. How are you even up walking around after last night?”

“My iron will, is all I can think of,” he quipped. “Hey, I was thinking if you were free tonight, maybe I could talk you into some dinner.”

“You know what?” she said, “I'm free now, why don’t we do lunch? I think I have to see this for myself.”

“Ha ha,” Dean said sarcastically. “Where do you want to meet?”

“How about the Raceway Cafe? It’s a little coffee shop not far from The Mount Inn Motel. Do you know it?”

“Yeah. We're actually staying at the Mount Inn. I'll see you in a few.”

Dean quickly finished getting dressed, and looked around for his wallet and keys. He found his wallet on the nightstand, but paused, confused when he realized his keys weren’t with it. He scanned the room and noticed the to-go bag and disposable cup on the kitchenette table and remembered that Sam had taken the Impala earlier that morning. “Guess I’m walking,” Dean mumbled irritably, as he snagged the motel room key on the way out the door.

***

The Raceway Cafe was squeezed between two larger buildings and set halfway down a graveled alley. Dean didn’t see Kara at any of the outdoor bistro sets that lined the stone walkway leading to the cafe. They were mostly taken up by young couples or families grabbing a quick bite under colorful umbrellas before continuing with their day. 

Dean inhaled the scent of coffee and baked bread as he paused inside the door and looked around for Kara. He found her seated at a table for two in a far corner. She waved when they made eye contact, though she looked as surprised to see him as she had sounded on the phone earlier. 

“Hello, handsome. Aren't you a little dressed up for lunch?” she asked with a smile when he approached the table. 

He returned the smile and answered a little self consciously. “Ah, well, probably, but my partner and I have some things to do this afternoon.”

“For your investigation?”

Dean nodded his answer as his phone rang. He fished it out of his jacket pocket with an apologetic glance in Kara’s direction, and hit the ignore button when he saw that it was Sam.

“How's that going?” Kara asked. 

“Um… Well, it's not, to be totally honest with you,” Dean said with a sigh. “But you don’t really want to hear about that.”

“Maybe later,” Kara agreed. “What I do want to hear about is how your iron will has you up and about this morning,” she said, seemingly thoroughly interested in his answer.

“Well, I will admit to a slow start, but I'm feeling much better now,” he said with a wink. “I think I'm getting too old for wild nights.”

“Nonsense. You're only as old as you feel,” Kara protested. 

“That’s not saying much for me at the moment then,” Dean said, smirking.

“Well, I know a good cure for a hangover,” Kara said with a flirty grin. She looked around before leaning over the table conspiratorially towards Dean and running her fingers over the back of his hand. “You want to get out of here?” she whispered.

“Now?” Dean asked, his turn to be shocked. 

Kara stood and said, “No time like the present. Didn’t you say your motel was nearby?”

Dean was momentarily rooted to the spot as he watched Kara walk away. When the realization finally made it through his desire-fogged mind that she was serious, he scrambled to his feet to follow her. He saw, but didn’t really register, the smug, self-satisfied smile on her face as she pushed through the door and led him through the parking lot to her car. 

***

Dean unlocked the door and allowed Kara in first, pulling his tie off and leaving it hanging on the outside knob. He reached into his pocket for his ringing phone and silenced it without looking at it before putting in on the table.

Kara turned from her silent inspection of the room and grabbed Dean, devouring his mouth in a hungry kiss. She slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, slipping his jacket from his body in the process.

Dean shrugged and the jacket dropped to the floor, utterly forgotten. The only thing he could think about was her lips and hands on him. He needed them to be closer—even the thin material separating them was too large a barrier.

Kara broke the kiss, leaving them both gasping for air. Leaning her forehead against his she began unbuttoning his shirt. "I knew you were a fine specimen the moment I laid eyes on you, but I never would have guessed how strong you were, until now." With her final words she pulled his shirt the rest of the way open, scattering buttons carelessly across the room. It joined the forgotten jacket on the floor.

Dean was thankful for one less layer between them but he wanted, no he needed, skin to skin contact. He wanted to just rip her clothes from her but at the same time wanted to take his time and savor the moment. "I couldn't stop thinking about you since I saw you either. I've been dreaming about this."

Part of him was unsure, and Dean Winchester was never unsure about sex. What was it about this woman that could totally capture his attention and invade his dreams? He felt his body shudder involuntarily, although he wasn't quite sure why. He wasn't afraid of Kara, but something in her eyes...there was an intense hunger there that he felt powerless to resist. He didn't want to feel powerless and yet it was liberating and exciting to know that what he wanted didn't entirely matter right now. She kissed him again and he stopped thinking, giving himself up to Kara and the way she made him feel.

Dean traced her curves to her hips, where he found the hem of her shirt. Hurriedly tugging it from her body he was finally able to feast his eyes on her. Her skin was so soft and smooth; he ached to touch and taste every inch of it. When he reached for her, she stepped back with a devilish grin and shimmied out of her short denim skirt. Standing there in nothing but her black bra and panties, she looked like a goddess. And he was more than willing to worship her.

He was suddenly overcome with a feeling of dizziness… no, not dizziness. Giddiness. He was lightheaded, like he was about to fall. It felt strangely terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time, like that sensation he got when he was close to the edge of a dangerously high place. As if he weren't fully in control of himself… Dean stumbled forward and found himself tumbling sideways on to the bed with Kara. "You make my head spin." Dean said a little breathlessly. His voice sounded slow and muffled in his ears. He shook his head to clear it and the the slow, lazy exhaustion he felt and focused on the woman in front of him.

“That's not all I plan on doing to you." Kara replied, reaching for him.

“Wait. I just want to look at you for a minute, " Dean said. “You are so beautiful.” He paused a moment to trail his hand down her body, just drinking in the woman in front of him. He started with the indention in her throat, where he could feel her heart beating, and slowly made his way down between her breasts, stopping to trace the lace at the top of the cups of her bra. When he saw her nipples harden beneath the thin material, and could see her chest begin to rise and fall faster as her breathing increased, he undid the front clasp of her bra, releasing her full breasts. She sighed in enjoyment when he cupped her breasts with his hand and stroked her nipple with his thumb. He moved further down her body, splaying his hand wide to take in as much of her curves as possible. He caressed her stomach, halting when he reached the lace of her panties. Slipping a finger just inside the waistband, he looked up at her quiet gasp. Meeting her eyes and grinning wickedly, he continued to trace all the way around the scrap of lace that hid her secrets, satisfaction growing in his chest as he watched her eyes darken with lust as he inched ever closer to his goal.

Dean heard her mutter something that sounded like “no time for this” before she reached up and grabbed him by the back of his neck, jerking him to her for a hard and deep kiss. She seemed desperate, hungry even, pressing her body to Dean’s so that he could feel her nipples brush against his chest. Dean growled into her mouth, gathered her to him and rolled over, dragging her on top of his body. 

Kara pulled her legs up to straddle Dean, but jumped back with a gasp. Looking down, her expression hardened and she snarled, “Get rid of that.” 

Dean followed her gaze until it landed on his belt buckle. It took him a second to realize it must have poked her in a sensitive area and he quickly huffed out an apology. He lifted his head, wordlessly encouraging Kara to continue, as he fumbled between them with his belt. She relaxed against him again and began kissing his neck. She started behind his ear, licking and scraping her teeth across his skin, before moving further down his throat. It felt like she was branding him, marking him as her property. Every time she paused to breathe or move to another spot, he got a dizzy, swimming sensation in his head, as though he was drunk on the nearness of her. His cock pulsed and throbbed in his slacks, and he could feel the damp and sticky patch where the precum had soaked the fabric. 

Thrusting his hips upward to pull the belt from its loops, he could feel Kara's already moist panties through the thin material of his dress pants. That made Dean growl again and throw the belt across the room, not caring where it landed. Running his hands up Kara's back to envelope her in his arms as she settled onto his lap, he realized he had on way too many clothes and toed off his shoes, letting them drop where they may.

The need to be skin to skin with her was growing. Kissing her, touching her, wasn't enough. He needed to be in her, a part of her. His heart was pounding, harder and harder each passing second, almost to the point of pain. Something of the panic he'd felt earlier rippled to the surface, some tiny shred of resistance that stilled his tongue for a moment, but she moved against him, grinding on his groin and it didn’t matter anymore. The only thing that mattered now was Kara. Only Kara.


End file.
